


Underneath

by FerinHite451



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Noodle Incidents, Romance, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2018-08-30 16:03:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 19,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8539468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FerinHite451/pseuds/FerinHite451
Summary: Every child born bears the mark of a beast. When the time is right, that beast will awaken and guide its bearer to their soulmate. This is how it has always been, and how it will always be.Of course, knowing the lore doesn't prevent you from wanting to talk to the manager.





	1. Ruby: Intro

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Verse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verse/gifts).
  * Inspired by [There's a beast on my skin and it's looking for you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2671229) by [Verse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verse/pseuds/Verse). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I am adapting this story from a fic by Verse. Please direct all your love and support toward the original artist.  
> Unless it's rage and hate. Then toss it my way. I'm a big boy, I can handle it.

Your wolf has never really sat well with you.

People say that the tattoo you get is a reflection of the kind of person you are. You never hesitate to shoot down that theory when they try it on you.

_ Wolves are pack animals. They’re loyal, fierce and cunning. They never leave one of their own behind, they sing to one another on clear nights, and they look breathtakingly beautiful under the light of the full moon. _

Well, you like crescent moons. You just do. Oh, and you like to wear a bright red cape and hood when you’re at home, which ties nicely into the fact that you have absolutely no idea how to handle people.

Lucky for you, there’s your sister for company. And you do have at least one friend, even if you don’t see each other very often.

Besides, you have a full-time job that wipes you out pretty good every day. Even if you had the energy for anything else, why would you need to go looking for it?

Because if your soulmate shows up, they’re going to have to reconcile the noble wolf  with the girl it’s attached to, and you’re not entirely sure you want that to happen just yet.

Suddenly your cheek itches like crazy, almost like there are ants running just under the skin--

No. Oh, no.

But at the same time, yes, yes,  _ yes! _

(Who knew you were so complicated?)

You’re out the door before you know it, rounding the corner and colliding headlong with a girl moving just as fast as you.

“Oh, sorry, I was--”

Your apology dies on your tongue as you make eye contact with a swan flapping its wings on her palm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, these first few chapters are meant to act as counterparts to the original four introductions that I'm building from. Go ahead and give them a good reading before continuing, as otherwise there will be some slight confusion, possibly followed by anger at lack of continuity.


	2. Yang: Intro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up in the intros is one that I had fun with. Hopefully you experience something similar.

It sucks being soulmate-less.

Sure, there’s the mystery and anticipation and all that gooey crap that people love to write about on the blogs, but when you’re drawn like a blonde Jessica Rabbitt there’s also the leering and the idiots who haven’t had their tattoo activate yet. All the unclaimed who think they have a free pass for anyone and everyone until such time their skin starts crawling.

You don’t even want to think about the claimed ones.

The upside of all this nonsense was a thicker skin for you. You learned how to play the game, who to let in and how far. You were given what was supposed to be a great gift. Might as well make the most of it right?

Of course, when your dragon starts dancing, it’s the best moment of your life.

You’ve never moved so fast. You leave a very confused man in headgear to burst out the door, nearly slamming it into the poor sod about to enter. You don’t have a damn clue where you’re going--well, actually, that’s not true, you’ve got your dragon leaping about on your arms to point the way. It’s going absolutely nuts and you’re right up there with it because  _ this is it _ , this is the day the world balances out all the crap it’s given you so far--

The dragon nearly flies off your right hand, stopping you cold. You orient yourself, look around...and no one’s there. That’s awkward. You thought for sure that there’d be a crowd. Whenever a soulmark activates, everyone wants in on the action.

But everyone’s going about their day, like nothing’s happened at all. And that’s just irksome.

You’re about to call it quits when the dragon pulls at your skin again, directing your attention to a river of dark hair facing away from you. If she’s supposed to be your soulmate, she’s certainly doing a good job of playing it cool. Maybe she’s hedging her bet, waiting for you to go to her?

As much as it rankles you, that’s exactly what just happened, so there’s not a lot you can say on the subject. Besides, anyone with that level of forethought is going to be an uphill battle to win over.

Best to start now, and pray she doesn’t notice how freaked out you are. Big smile, shoulders straight, standing tall so you can walk right up to her and turn her around.

“Uhm, hello! I guess we’re soulmates, aren’t we?”

Oh, yeah, she’ll never guess.


	3. Nora: Intro

He’s always been there for you.

So you make it your job to always be there for him. And you take your job very seriously.

People accuse you of being a ditz, a big bumbling bimbo with everything that should have been in your head bouncing around on your chest.

Maybe.

But you’ll always remember the day your tattoo came to life. You’ll always see a bright pink pair of eyes go wide with wonder as a snake crept underneath them. And everything that’s happened since that day--all the crazy, all the fun, all the tears, all the wacko zacko dotty crap--that’s all going to be with you forever.

And all those tiny little smiles that no one ever sees, that even you have to look for because he doesn’t like people seeing, those are all yours. Yours and no one else’s.

Yeah, maybe you are a bimbo. That’s what bimbos think, right? They find a man and latch onto him like a leech.

But you’re much less leech-like.

Really, you’re more like a sloth.

Piggyback rides for days!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm well aware of the brevity of this piece, but in truth I have plans for Nora here, and to say much more would be tipping my hand. Muahahahaha...


	4. Pyrrha: Intro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, last but certainly not least, my beloved.
> 
> She is forever.

You knew soulmates existed, of course.

You couldn’t _not_ know, not with everyone around you constantly wondering about finding their own.

You’re no different, of course. The only thing you’ve wanted for several years now is to find your soulmate, the one who you’d spend your entire life with. But too many people told you no, don’t waste your life looking. It was never a guarantee. Sure, you might find him, but would it be anytime before you were on your deathbed? Or maybe you’d be in that minority that no one talked about, the ones who were never found, never claimed.

Why chase after a distant dream, when you could live this one?

So you kept training, kept pushing beyond your limits. Broken bones, torn muscles, pain like nothing you’d ever known, but at the same time there was pride and joy and excitement and passion to match it.

It’s been a while since you’ve felt anything like that.

Been awhile since you felt anything worth mentioning at all, really.

The prickling on the back of your neck has been there all morning, carrying the weight of everyone’s stares. Right now it’s probably your coach scrutinizing your every move, ready to point out the tiny flaws no one else noticed. Maybe even your teammates, who watched even more closely than the coach sometimes.

The prickling becomes a tickling, moving down your shoulder to your stomach and then back up to your face. _That_ is somewhat less than normal, and it’s enough to stop your warmup.

The goalie stands out of her ready stance. She stares at you in shock, lifting her arm to point. Was it something you did? You’ve avoided the bicycle kick just like Coach said--in fact, you’ve not performed such a maneuver for the better part of a year. It’s quite possible that you _can’t_ do it anymore.

The tickling dances across your cheeks and nose, and now it’s just annoying. You wipe at your face, but no amount of rubbing is enough to make it diminish. It concentrates in your left cheekbone, and instinct makes you turn away from it.

This lets you see the blond mop of hair in the stands, and the wide eyes underneath it.

Oh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that all the small talk is out of the way, let's get down to the nitty-gritty...


	5. Not-So-Mighty Mouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit more content this time around. Little more action to move the plot forward. Hopefully I can make a habit of that.

Maybe there was a mistake? You’ve never heard of false positives when it comes to finding soulmates, but nothing is foolproof, right? It would be just your luck to be the first documented case of a soulmate search leading to a dead end.

She’s still staring at you, and now you can make out her expression.

There’s shock, which is only to be expected.

There’s something that seems to say,  _ You had to show up now? Here, and now? _ That makes sense, no matter how much it stings.

There’s relief, which fits--

No, actually, that makes no sense at all. Why would she--

You feel a shoulder drive into what feels like your third lumbar.

Oh,  _ that’s _ why she looked relieved.

 

Security has its way with you for the next twenty minutes. Apparently there’s been a rash of break-ins involving young men like yourself, all claiming that their soulmates were inside. Naturally, this makes your story a bit harder to swallow, and they take you into the security office to be detained. When you try to show your mouse, it turns out that it’s hidden from the scary guards.

Who knew you were such a coward?

You wind up bent over a table, shirt off and pants down to show off your bum. Your tramp stamp’s quivering just enough to be noticed. When one of the guards prods at it, it takes off across your back, tickling so badly that you fall off the table.

On the bright side, this serves as proof that you were telling the truth, and you’re allowed to put your clothes back on. Unfortunately, the matter remains that you somehow managed to break into a closed practice session.

You elect not to mention the lack of any sort of obstruction along your path inside. Better to look like an embarrassed child with his hand in the cookie jar than a smartass delinquent.

They ask you to identify your soulmate, if you saw her at all. For some reason, you hold your tongue, telling them that you’d still been looking when you got caught. It’s hard enough for you to wrap your head around, why the hell would they believe you?

You’re escorted to the exit with an appointment to come back tomorrow afternoon, when the team is “better prepared” for your presence. Before you know it, you’re back out on the street where you first felt your tattoo come to life.

Well.

If there’s a stranger story for finding one’s soulmate, you’d certainly like to hear it.

Given who your friends are, you wonder if you should tell it at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would die happy if someone illustrated the soulmark inspection scene.


	6. Caught On a Hot Tin Roof

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize now for any and all issues regarding format (and quality, but that's unrelated). Due to issues with my WiFi, I had to complete this part on my phone.
> 
> Here's to hoping it turns out halfway decent.

This has to be some kind of prank.

        It’s original, you’ll admit, but that’s all the credit you’ll give whatever sick mind devised this fresh hell.

        “Umm…” The blonde’s looking at you in confusion. “You speak English, right?”  
        Surprisingly, a new insult manages to snap you back. It’s time to fall on old habits, to quietly bow out so that no one can accuse you of acting out of turn.

        “Yes,” you answer, and stand up to walk away.

        “Oh,” you hear her say. “You looked kind of exotic, like you weren’t from around here. Are you from somewhere else?”

        Persistent ones aren’t uncommon, but they never fail to get under your skin. “No” you say as you keep walking. Maybe she’ll lose interest and go back to her friends, to her real soulmate.

        “Really? Then you just hit the genetics jackpot, huh? Like me!”

        Or maybe the hint will bounce off her thick skull. To be fair, it might have gotten tangled in that wild golden mane.

        “Something like that.” Somehow you’re able to keep the venom out of that statement, through some superhuman exertion of will. You don’t plan on lightning striking twice, though, so your next move is to increase your pace. Slightly, so as to not appear overly rude, but enough to put some distance between you and your new best friend.

"So, what's your name?"

Idly, you wonder if your existence today has really been so offensive as to call this down on you. You thought you'd been rather good, all things considered. You hadn't even made eye contact with a single person on the street.

Still, acting out of line now will only exacerbate the situation, so you give her your name in as pleasant a tone as can be managed in one word.

"Blake, huh?" The nervousness retreats from her face, allowing her smile to become a full-on grin that is somehow radiant and comforting. If you had to use one word to describe it, you suppose that "sunny" would suffice.

She keeps smiling at you, and it starts to feel strange. This is going a little too far for a prank, even with a Faunus as the target. Any moment now Sunny's real soul mate is going to step out from his hiding spot and get his jollies from seeing your face, and for once you don't feel like being proven right.

Before she can say anything else you dart through a knot of passers-by, moving to keep them in between you and Sunny. You've pulled this trick dozens of times before; by the time they pass, it will look like you've vanished.

Sun calls it your "ninja thing," and normally the act is enough to lighten your mood.

Today, though, you're too confused.

And just a little hurt.


	7. Green Tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAZ WIFI AGAIN  
> I HAZ KEYBOARD AND GUD FORMATTING  
> HAPPINESS

She’s still here.

She's never really gone for long, much to the ire of your co-workers. That shouldn’t amuse you, seeing as it’s your livelihood on the line, but you can’t help but smile inside every time you catch a flurry of pink out of the corner of your eye.

Today you’re on shift to close and lock up, which is always a source of concern for your fellow employees. On the one hand, the human hurricane doesn’t visit until near the end of the day. On the other hand, she’s going to be around during dead hours, with only you and maybe one other worker to rein her in.

She’s not  _ that _ much of a nuisance, in point of fact, but you’re certainly not going to give away her secret. Not when it gets everyone out the door that much quicker.

And let’s face it, the looks on their faces are  _ priceless _ . Every time, it never changes.

You’re wiping down tables when the bell over the door behind you jingles.

(No matter how much teasing comes your way, you’re not even going to try to get rid of it. What’s wrong with a little old-fashioned?)

A chair squeaks against the tile, someone lets out a sigh of despair that makes your bones feel brittle, and you deduce that Jaune’s going to need his pick-me-up order today.

Of course, she’s on the case before you can so much as twitch, and as you make your way back behind the counter she’s already unloading a rapid-fire barrage of love and support on your best friend. You shake your head in amusement at the nostalgia.

With grace honed by much practice, you pluck an extra-large cup from the stack and slip it under the correct spout, letting it fill with hot chocolate while you dig for the mini-marshmallow stash you keep hidden under the register. Slipping a few between your fingers, you spin back around to shut off the flow and grab--

A shriek hits you like a slap, which upsets the rather hot liquid you’re holding and allows you to try and guess its exact temperature on your hand.

“Nora!”

It’s not  _ exactly _ an expletive, but it’s close enough, and she picks up on the context instantly. You blink, and she’s fawning over your burn like it was her crying child while Jaune looks vaguely traumatized in the background. “I’m so, sososo sorry!” she exclaims, and once again your only choice is to mark this down as another funny story to tell in two months. She’s not as bad as people think, really; at least she always apologizes.

“Is there anything I can do to fix it?” she asks with those blue bambi eyes, and you fight to keep from outright laughing.

“You can tell me what brought that on.”

Jaune snaps back to reality and fixes you with a stare that says  _ not again _ , but it’s like a switch was thrown. Nora flips back into Flubber mode (not your idea) and drags you over to his table. “Guess who found his soulmate?” she chirps.


	8. White and Grey

Are there better ways to handle this sort of news?

Almost certainly.

Your family would be apoplectic to see you behave in such a fashion.

Your logical mind reminds you that if any other Schnee were confronted with a cosmic prank like this, the backlash would be felt across time. So really, your reaction was quite subdued and practical.

You keep telling yourself this as you hide behind the menu of a restaurant you know the grease monkey could never afford to enter. One that keeps a very burly man at the front desk to ensure such an idea is shared by all who walk by the door.

The waiter approaches your table, prompting you to shift your menu to the side just long enough to order your drink. He notes it down and glides off to serve some other table.

Table!

You cringe inwardly as you realize that you chose the booth in the farthest corner of the restaurant, away from any windows. It had seemed like a good idea in the heat of the moment; you were tucked against the wall while still facing the door, in a compromise between obscurity and surveillance.

But you’re a Schnee. A Schnee does not hide herself like a teenager in high school. She certainly does not attempt such a thing without good reason, and it is in everyone’s best interests that this particular reason not come to light.

You divert your attention from the door to cast your eye over the other patrons. None of them seem to be paying you any mind. From what you can remember, none of them have any sort of relationship to your father.

At least there’s some room to breathe, then. You’ll still have to be careful; whoever said gossip spread like wildfire clearly never spent time among the upper echelons of society. The phrase simply didn’t have enough imagination.

Calm.

Focus.

You’re here to enjoy a lovely meal, and once you’re done you’ll leave with the same grace and poise that you entered with.

There won’t be any problems with anyone else. Why would there be?

You’re a Schnee. Proud and strong.

Your swan keeps beating its wings against your navel, making your doubly grateful you wore the grey dress today. The white may have been thin enough to betray your tattoo’s movement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I'm depressed.
> 
> I'm trading quality for quantity here, but I know no other way to progress without giving the game away.


	9. Burning Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to put a little more love Verse's way, because writing in 2nd person is HARD.

You like to consider yourself a rational person. There may be others who would argue, but they’re not here right now, so your self-assessment remains unchallenged.

When your soulmate vanished into the crowd, you didn’t even stop every person there for interrogation. See? You’re very reasonable.

So why is it that when you make your way back to the gym, everyone’s staring at you like you’re breathing fire?

You don’t want to be mad. You weren’t really mad to begin with. But being feared because of a _potential_ outbreak gets under your skin like nothing else.

You decide against picking up where you left off with your sparring partner and spend the rest of the day beating a heavy bag senseless. Every connection your fist makes is loud and ugly, almost a physical force in its own right. That doesn’t do you any favors in the “people-not-freaking-out” department, and that only adds fuel to the fire.

Fine by you.

With every hit, the other members get a little more scared. With every more ounce of fear, you get angrier. With every extra bit of anger, you get stronger. It’s a vicious cycle in the best way, and the end result is one _hell_ of a workout.

Right up until your hand goes about four inches farther than it’s supposed to go, and you realize that even in your rage-induced haze you’ve been nailing the exact same spot for almost thirty minutes straight.

Rice pours onto the floor in a slow, loud trickle. Your adrenaline fades away, and you’re aware of how hard you’re breathing.

It’s way too quiet in the gym, you notice. Almost no sound at all, apart from Mason crying in the corner.

Your knuckles throb, prompting you to unwrap them and inspect your skin. No big bruises, thankfully, and the bones all feel solid. You breathe a sigh of relief, making a mental note to thank Nora again for drilling it in your head to always wrap your hands.

Everyone’s still staring at you. Or the bag. Actually, it’s kind of a back-and-forth thing they’re doing, and you stifle a giggle at how ridiculous they look with their eyes bugging out of their heads.

With a flick of your long blonde locks you sashay to the locker room, because _damn_ if that didn’t feel good.

Now all that’s left is to find the woman destiny decided you’ll spend your life with, find out why she bailed on you, make her realize that she won the Powerball with you, and live out the rest of your life as sexy partners-in-crime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Captain America ain't got nothing on Yang Xiao Long.


	10. Jaune with the Wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOTT IM HIMMEL, I don't think I have any hair left after this one. I apologize for the insane length on this one, but I couldn't think of a way to split it up without the whole thing disintegrating. It's a piece of crap, but here I am throwing it up anyway, because YOU GUYS DESERVE SOMETHING FOR YOUR PATRONAGE.

You’re not equipped to handle this evening.

It’s not even one of those things where you have to think about it. You know this inherently, like butterflies migrating.

It started after you made the mistake of letting slip about the incident at the stadium. The news sent Nora into overdrive (yes, such a thing exists on her; you’re just thankful she didn’t hit hyperdrive). She insisted that everyone know  _ right now _ .

You insisted that she keep quiet about good old Jaune screwing up his soulmate search like only he can.

She kept insisting that she text the entire contents of her phone.

You wrestled her for that phone, which proved to be your second mistake. Really, you should have learned back when you were eight.

Luckily, Nora was saved from manslaughter charges by your brother in all but blood, who plucked the phone from her free hand.

“You shouldn’t tweet this out, Nora,” he said.

“He needs to tell everyone in person.”

“REN, WHY?!”

And now all your friends are at your apartment listening to the Ballad of Jaune Arc and the Security Guard from Hell. You’re so screwed.

Yang’s spilling her drink all over her shirt, but the uproarious laughter is a clue that she doesn’t care all that much. You look to her sister for support, but she’s too busy stuffing her mouth with her fists. It’s a valiant effort on her part, and you appreciate it.

It would mean a lot more if her entire body wasn’t shaking, but that’s just life.

“S-so…” Yang wheezes, “so you were bent over a t-table...with your damn  _ pants off _ …”

You wince. Of course  _ that’s _ what she would focus in on.

Yang fixes Nora with a wicked smile. “You still talk to that fanart guy online, right?”

Oh dear GOD. You stare pleadingly at Ren, who just flashes a shit-eating grin your way when no one else is looking. Somewhere in the back of your mind you register just how unfair it is that you only ever see him smile when it’s filled with evil.

“Come on, Yang, you don’t really want to see Jaune’s butt, do you?”

The blonde’s simper gets even bigger. “Oh, Ruby,” she says sweetly. “It’s not the picture that’s important. It’s the message behind it.”

Ruby’s eyes unfocus as she tries to process just what kind of message her big sister is talking about, causing Yang to break into another giggling fit. Ren’s got his hand over Nora’s mouth, presumably to save what little innocence the youngest among you has managed to preserve. Living with Yang, that’s no small accomplishment.

“You shouldn’t leave the story off there, Jaune,” says Ren, maintaining an impeccable poker face. “You haven’t even told them who your soulmate is.”

That manages to snap Ruby out of her daze and bring the other two to a screeching halt. Ren, you bastard. The spotlight was about to pass you over!

“Oh! Oh oh oh!” Nora bounces up and down on her spot in front of the couch. “You never told me at the cafe! Why didn’t you tell me? Oooo, is it a secret? Are you keeping secrets from us, Jaune? You’re not supposed to keep your soulmate a secret, you know. You could end up like Romeo and Juliet, or Lancelot and Guinevere, or Bella and Edward. Ew, you don’t want to end up like Twilight, do you?”

“I think he’s Team Jacob,” Yang chimes in.

Nora’s eyes go huge, but mercifully Ruby cuts her off. “Why didn’t you tell Ren and Nora?”

You heave an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know.”

“Well that’s no reason!” she snaps.

“Huh?” Oh, crap. “No, I mean I don’t  _ know! _ I didn’t see my soulmate there!”

You don’t like lying to them, but where security was hard to convince, these guys will be impossible to control. The minute they get wind of who you  _ think _ you  _ might _ have seen with an active tattoo, they’ll wage war on anyone who stands in the way.

They’re forces to be reckoned with and the best friends you could ask for, but you don’t aim for rocks when rafting on whitewater. You learned that one the hard way.

“Really?” Yang looks decidedly unimpressed. “You’ve been looking for your soulmate since you hit puberty, and you didn’t even get a look at her?”

You swallow, praying that for once in your life you’ll become a halfway decent liar.

“I think it’s best to respect his desire for privacy, Yang.” Ren’s voice floats over your shoulder, giving you solace that at least someone is on your side here--

Wait, he just confirmed you were lying.

“After all, he told the security story to placate us. I think he’s serious.”

If you get out of this alive, you’re going to burn every stitch of clothing Ren owns. Even the towels.

Nora breaks free from Ren’s grip and teams up with Yang to start applying the screws, demanding to know every single detail about your mystery soulmate. But you are strong, and you will weather this siege with everything you have. They possess no weapons capable of breaking the inner hold’s walls.

Ruby calls your name, and when you look at her she’s wearing her biggest, most pitiful puppy face.

DAMMIT!

“What makes you so sure it’s a girl?” At this point anything goes if it gets them off your back. “My soulmate could be a guy, you know! What about that?”

“Nah.” Yang waves her hand dismissively. “It’s definitely a girl. You’re not confused enough for it to be a guy.”

Hard to argue with that, actually. You’re still under oath from Coco while she figures herself out.

You take in the expectant stares from your friends who have stood by you since day one, and sigh. You owe them the truth.

So you tell them.

Predictably, Nora’s the first to react. “NO WAY!” she screeches. “PYRRHA  _ FREAKING _ NIKOS IS YOUR SOULMATE?!”

Yang slams her palm into your back, nailing your mouse dead center. “Attaboy, Jaune!” she crows. “Swingin’ for the fence!”

Tattoos all over the room are going nuts. Even Ren’s snake is flitting about on his exposed forearms.

They’re genuinely excited for you.

...No, you’re not welling up, there will be no tears of joy at this occasion.

Besides, there’s one little snag that no one seems to realize.

“I don’t know if she’s my soulmate.”

Surprise surprise, no one loses any steam over your protest. “What was her soulmark?” Ruby asks.

“Um, a tiger.”

“You saw it moving?”

“Yeah, but Yang--”

“IT’S A MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN! WE’RE GONNA GET FREE SEATS TO ALL THE GAMES AND GO ON TOURS AND BE FREAKING AWESOME!!”

“Nora, stop!”

That one gets their attention. You breathe in and hold it a few seconds, doing your best to clear your head. “Look, I don’t know if she’s my soulmate. For all I know, it was a giant coincidence, and both our soulmates were nearby. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but--”

“Jaune.” Ren’s got his serious voice on, the one that even Nora doesn’t dare argue with. His snake has halted its dance and stares at you from his jugular. “You may not know if she’s the one, but you don’t know that she’s not, either. Don’t give up before you’ve even tried.”

He doesn’t say  _ not again, _ but he really doesn’t need to. You sigh and nod, feeling trapped and strangely liberated at the same time.

Yeah, these are the best friends ever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there's one thing I've learned, it's to never discount the comments (yes, I'm aware that I'm on the Internet). You guys have pointed out to me that I'm not making it clear who's speaking in each chapter, and I'm sorry about that. I blame my ar-TEE-stic SAH-nses for that one. I'm trying to be too clever for my own good. Rest assured, I'll try to make it a bit more obvious, while still keeping a bit of the creativity. Got to appease the da Vinci on my shoulder, or else he'll be all over my ass.


	11. Two-Man (-Woman?) Wolf Pack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DAMMIT DA VINCI  
> What do you mean, "what?" The TITLE! WE TALKED ABOUT THIS!
> 
> Guys, I am so sorry this chapter is so late. Life and Leo over here kept schlock-blocking me. Quick, before he notices, this one's being told by--

Home!

Cape!

Hood!

You snuggle into your red wearable blankie (as your sister likes to tease) on the couch as soon as the front door closes. Yang shakes her head, but she’s smiling as she walks into the kitchen for water.

You don’t care. You managed to meet your soulmate and lose her inside the same minute, which only confirmed everything you’ve been afraid of from day one. Your wolf let you down. You let your wolf down.

It’s curled up in your armpit right now. Is that because it’s ashamed of you? Is it trying to get away?

You pull the hood over your eyes and burrow deeper into the cape’s warmth. Maybe the wolf has the right idea.

“You want anything, or--” Yang’s footsteps stop about where the doorway is, making you flinch. She wasn’t supposed to see you. You’re hiding. That’s the law.

“You gonna stay in there all night? Because I wanted to watch something, and you’re hogging the couch.”

You peek out from under the edge of the hood. She stands with her hip cocked out, smiling wryly. Almost like this is all a big joke that never ends.

You wish you could look at it that way. Hearing Jaune’s story earlier definitely helped, but now you just feel guilty. You don’t like guilt. It feels heavy and gross.

Yang nudges your shoulder and you pull your knees up to your chin, still covered by your cloak. She flops down on the other end of the couch, pulling up the Netflix queue the two of you have built and sworn to finish. “Watcha feel like tonight, sis?” she chirps.

Is there anything about someone who completely fails at life?

...No, Family Guy’s overkill. You’re hopeless, but being compared to Meg is just depressing.

Yang picks out some action piece that you’ve both watched before, which strikes you as odd until she turns to you and smiles. “We’ve got background noise now. Wanna talk about it?”

Oh crap, she was planning this from the beginning! Since when did Yang turn into a thinker?

Just stall her until she gets distracted by the movie. “T-talk about what?”

“Duh, what you didn’t talk about at Jaune’s place.” She peers under your hood to catch your eye. “Your soulmate, silly!”

Enemy missile lock! Engage evasive maneuvers! Deploy flares!

“Y-you didn’t talk about it, either! What’s up with that?”

Yang just grins at you in that way that says she’s not just playing your game, she’s about to school you in it. “I’m not the one who wanted to bring it up all night long.”

_ Someone talked. _ “No I wasn’t!”

“You totally were.”

“No!”

“Ruby, every time anyone stopped talking you looked like you were trying to hold in a fart. I bought your lunch today, I know there wasn’t anything in there to make you gassy.”

“No!”

(It’s at this point that you wonder when your valid and well-thought-out defense strategy turned into a four-year-old arguing with big sister who’s being a meanie.)

Yang just laughs at you. “Come on, Ruby. Spill.”

You don’t like this conversation anymore. You never did, but now the whole thing’s being mean to you for no reason.

She flicks your hood off your head and grabs your wrists to keep you from pulling it back on. “You’re not going to keep it from me forever, you might as well tell me now!”

Not fair! You struggle She knows that the cloak is off limits, this is breaking the rules! You’d never mess with the one jacket she owns, why is this okay?

Wait.

“Your jacket!”

That confuses her. “What about it?”

“You  _ never _ wear that, even when it’s freezing outside!”

Her eyebrow quirks, even as she smiles wryly. “That’s kinda overkill, don’tcha think?”

But her honeyed words hold no sway over you now. She has revealed her weakness, and you shall exploit it mercilessly. It’s the humane thing to do. “You didn’t want them to know about your tattoo!”

Her smile gets just the tiniest bit crooked. In her eyes--is that fear that you see?

_ Yes. _

“So what? I asked first.”

DAMMIT!

“Yang, if you don’t tell me, I--I’ll tell Nora! And I’ll say that you were trying to hide it from me! From everyone!”

Her jaw drops. This is black magic of the  _ highest _ order, and you know it.

Payback for your cloak.  _ Ha. _

Yang searches for words for a few seconds, eventually conceding defeat. “But I did ask first,” she says as a final jab.

Given the battle you just fought, you’re willing to give her this one. So long as you tell her, she’ll tell you.

So long as you tell her.

…

You pull your arms back into your trusty ball o’cloak and stare straight ahead. You are going to tell her, really. You just need to prepare yourself. Get psyched up.

She’ll love you anyway, right? She’s your sister. That’s the law.

...five more seconds, that’s all you need.

“Ruuuuuuuby?”

“She ran away from me.”

You blurt it out, no thought attached. For a second you’re mad that she tricked you into going before you were ready, but that’s quickly dwarfed by the terror that she’ll be disappointed in you. Please,  _ please _ let her be nice to you.

“Huh.”

That one little word is enough to convince you that you’re no longer welcome in this house until you hear her snort. Not loudly, it’s a little tiny to be honest, but it’s kinda there, and that counts for something right?

“Guess we really are sisters.”

...wait,  _ what? _

You lift your head off your knees to look at Yang. She’s still smiling, but it’s small and weird. It’s the same kind of sad smile that Dad gets sometimes when he’s thinking of Mom.

“What do you mean?”

She looks at you with big purple eyes that only want you to be happy, but she’s clearly not about to tell you good news. “Met me a girlie that ran off, too.”

Oh.

Oh, crap, you’re the worst person ever. You shouldn’t have pushed so hard. This is wrong, you need to make this better somehow.

It doesn’t matter what, just  _ say something. _

“You think it’s in the blood?”

OH DEAR GOD WHY DID YOU SAY THAT.

Silence fills up the room like a giant blanket, and it feels really heavy and gross as Yang stares at you in complete shock. You cringe, but you can’t look away. It’s like a trainwreck.

That’s a surprisingly accurate summary of you, actually.

You both keep staring at each other until something snaps and neither of you can keep from busting a gut laughing. It’s awful and wrong on so many levels, personal levels, but somehow that just makes it  _ that much funnier. _

“Yup, that sounds right,” Yang chokes out. “The Rose-Xiao Long clan, can’t hold onto a woman to save our lives.”

That just brings on a new wave of laughter that you’re probably going to feel really guilty about later, but it feels good right now, so you’re going to keep going.

She wraps an arm around your shoulders to pull you in to cuddle. “Don’t ever change, sis,” she whispers into your hair. “Not for anyone, especially her.”

Your spine feels all tingly from hearing that. You still have a home somewhere. You’re still okay.

You grab her around the middle to squeeze as tight as you can. “Only if you don’t either.”

Yang chuckles and nuzzles the top of your head with her cheek. “Deal.”

You stay like that for a while, through a car chase and a crappy hacking session on the TV. It’s not perfect, because you’ve learned to be careful with that word, but it’s nice. It’s warm. It’s home.

“So tell me about her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before people get to thinking there's a continuity error, I meant for Ruby and Yang's tattoos to go more or less unnoticed at Jaune's place. They moved about and could be seen on exposed skin occasionally, but given that the focus was entirely on Jaune, no one noticed. Jaune himself was a little too preoccupied with the extra attention, as evidenced by his internal screams.
> 
> Now, the next one up is going to be from Blake--(OW! LEO, YOU SUNUVA--!)


	12. Cat's Cradle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know I kept you guys waiting too long for the last one, and I'm just as eager to see where this story goes. So here we are, with whatever I could scrounge from the dregs of my mind.
> 
> What do you mean, quality? Planning ahead? What are these words? Are you sure you're speaking English?

There’s a lot you’ve gotten used to in your life, and a lot of it revolves around your ears.

You’re not sure that a similar allowance should be made for squatting in Sun’s apartment.

He hates it when you refer to it as such. He insists that it’s an agreement between friends. That you’re basically family, in his words, and that alone exempts you from silly things like rent.

You can only assume that he’s thinking of this as a temporary solution, albeit one that’s continued for nearly four months now.

You don’t want to disparage his kindness, especially when it means you still have cash left in your pocket, but you’re not sure that the landlord won’t throw a fit when he finds out two Faunus are shacking up on his watch. It’s a wonder Sun managed to put his name on the lease at all. Likely to do with the other three humans paying the same bills, just to balance the scales.

One of them is in the kitchen. You can’t remember if it’s Scarlet or Sage, although in your defense, both of them are gone for weeks at a time with work. The fact that they’re both here at the same time is cause to celebrate in Sun’s eyes, which explains the banquet being prepared right now.

Really, this place is more of a hotel than anything else for them.

At least they pay for the rooms.

Your chef for the evening squeezes through the door one shoulder at a time (that broad chest could only belong to Sage) holding a giant pot of something smelling of roast.He plunks it down on the table, letting a little of the broth inside splash over the edge and run down the side. “Soup’s on!” he calls.

Sun’s at the table almost before Sage finishes, fork and spoon clenched in either fist and held at the ready. Neptune and Scarlet take a little longer to show up; apparently the latter was deep asleep, requiring the former to shake him awake. His hair is plastered to his face with drool, something Sun’s clearly having a hard time ignoring. Neptune stares at him, and then you and Sage in turn, with an expression that clearly forbids spoiling the joke. Doubtless he wants to see how long it takes for Scarlet to notice himself.

Yeah, these guys are dorks. But they’re your dorks.

Besides, Scarlet’s never here. You want to see his face when he finally snaps to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's not a whole lot to this chapter, but my main goal was to offset Blake's pessimism and anger from her earlier appearance. There's still a place for her to relax, and people who can make her smile.
> 
> And yes, I was genuinely stumped as to how I could extend it, so eventually I gave up. Never claimed to be perfect, never will.
> 
> Anyway, next up is (swoon) my darling Pyrrha. May she find the love she so richly deserves.


	13. Soldier of Fortune

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucky number thirteen.  
> I cannot express in words how lucky I feel to have gotten this far on this project. The fact that there's people like you all to support me through this endeavor, the idea that I've gotten to work on it at all...I wanted to wait until an auspicious number to bring this up, make a big ceremony of it, but really I should have told you all sooner:  
> Thank you. Thank you so much.  
> Thanksgiving has passed for me, and I admit I wanted to use the holiday to make a bigger deal of this whole spiel, but I thought better of it. Instead, I decided to take the time to put a little more effort into this chapter. I figure that I've injected enough cynicism into this endeavor; time to be honest.  
> I have no idea what a normal growth rate for a story is on this site, but I do know that this story has gotten more attention than I ever thought possible in the space of...  
> Holy crap, I don't thing it's even been two weeks yet! Why are you guys wasting your time here?  
> I've gotten nothing but love and cheers in the comments, and I get the weirdest fuzzies in my bones reading all of them. I want to give every single one of you a hug in response, but sadly our current technology limits me to being a smartass in text. So by all means, keep it coming. I can't wait to see what you think.  
> Simply put, thank you all. From the bottom of my heart, I want you to know how grateful I am.

Yesterday you found out that you had a soulmate.

Today you’d give anything to know you were destined to be alone.

The  _ entire team _ is treating you differently now. They’re not being unpleasant, of course, they never are. In fact, they’re extending more courtesy your way than ever before. In any other situation it would be almost nice.

But years of experience fielding such smiles has taught you to look underneath them, to see the intentions hidden behind identical expressions of praise. And as much as it pains you to admit, your teammates aren’t giving you such gifts out of the goodness of their hearts.

They’re plotting. And it’s not hard to follow their line of thinking.

Pyrrha Nikos, the Invincible Girl herself (the nickname certainly wasn’t  _ your _ idea), now has a soulmate. Your attention is going to be split now, between your practice and your new best friend. You would have to commit yourself in new ways, divide your time to make everyone happy because  _ of course _ that’s what you’ll do, it’s in your nature. Maybe you’ll even have to choose one way or another, which will definitely open up new avenues for everyone else to rise through the ranks. All eyes will be on you, even more than normal.

You won’t be the only one under scrutiny, either. The blond boy from yesterday made quite the entrance, which likely established himself as impulsive and none too bright in the team’s eyes. In other words, someone easy to steer in any direction they want. That ranks him as a tool to be exploited against you.

You’ve been accused of any things in your life, and you’ve grown accustomed to the battle. But he’s new to all this. There is no way you’re letting him get dragged down with you.

When he appears today, you’re going to…

You’re going to…

You’re going to sit exactly where you are in an empty locker room and fret over what you’ll do, apparently.

You’re freshly showered after your practice, and yet you break out into a sweat. This is crazy. This is ludicrous.  _ You have a soulmate. _

Is it even possible?

The angry tiger staring at you from your right shoulder serves as a convincing argument. It’s kneading at your skin like an overgrown housecat, sending little tickling sensations down your arm.

It’s actually alive.

Amazing.

But did it come to life for him? Maybe there was someone else in the stands yesterday. Maybe your soulmate is a guard who wandered too close to the field while on patrol. Maybe she’s a teammate. There are documented cases of delayed reactions in soulmarks, although nothing longer than a week. Perhaps you are an outlier?

It’s certainly not a new experience, if that’s the case.

Stop. You’re ready for this to happen. You can, and you will, handle anything that comes your way.

Coach barks your name from the door, making you jump slightly. He motions at you to hurry up and get out to the field for the soulmark test.

It’s a none-too-subtle reminder that this  _ is _ happening, regardless of your feelings on the matter. You might as well get moving so that the tide doesn’t overtake you.

Deep breath. Strong stance. One foot in front of the other, out the door and onto the field.

Once more unto the breach.

Once more.

 

The team’s completely assembled on the turf. It’s a little strange to see the other girls in normal clothes in this location, but you suppose it’s even stranger for them to see you in the same circumstances. As far as the world knows, you sleep in your uniform. Someone even asked if you possessed a closet full of them.

A cartoony idea that you instantly regretted not trying out at least once.

You blink, pushing the distractions from your mind. This isn’t the time to get lost in frivolity, not in front of everyone else.

The coach grimaces and looks at the hall leading inside from the field, where you can see the guards hauling along Blondie by the arm.

(Once again, the nickname wasn’t  _ your _ idea. You make a mental note to learn his name as soon as possible.)

The others start whispering amongst themselves, shooting you knowing glances. Coach barks at them to fall back in line; you’re thankful, but you suspect he’s afraid of a riot breaking out if he’s not completely on top of affairs.

You wish you had a stronger argument against that scenario.

Blondie is pulled to a halt about eight feet away from the team, to your right side. The fact that he’s not directly in front of you calms you, if only a little bit. At least the two of you won’t be staring at each other through the whole affair.

Coach stalks up to him and begins to pound the pecking order into the poor boy’s head. You feel for him, but now you have a chance to inspect him more closely than you could before.

Your first impression is that he seems smaller than you remember. When he appeared yesterday he was in the stands, and therefore technically above you. That could have something to do with it.

He’s wearing battered jeans and sneakers. You kick yourself (no pun intended) when you realize that you’re starting with his feet. He’s a normal person, not another player. You can be normal too, right?

Moving your eyes up his body, you take in his sweatshirt. It’s brown...not a uniform shade, the sides and parts of the sleeves are darker than the rest. Sun bleaching, most likely. It must be a favorite, to see the light so much.

Again, you kick yourself. Enough analysis! Be normal!

His hair’s blond, obviously, but now that you’re looking closer you can see that it’s messy and loose. Not quite bed-head levels, but something inside you wants to reach out and smooth it down.

Or maybe ruffle it?

That earns you the biggest boot to the backside yet from your rational brain. You don’t even know him! You’re not allowed to do that! Be  _ normal, _ Pyrrha!

You crash back to Earth when you feel another pair of eyes on yours.

They belong to Blondie.

And suddenly your tiger’s kneading has turned into a frantic dance to run toward him and you realize just how abnormal you are and how  _ not _ ready you are for any of this to happen yet, happen at all. He’s the normal one here. He has his own life that you’ll only complicate when you try to mix yours in.

Why did he have to have blue eyes? Why did he have to have that exact pair of big, ocean blue eyes that didn’t know how to hide anything?

Coach snaps his fingers in front of Blondie’s face. “HEY!”

You both jump, and while he stammers an apology you duck your chin into your chest and try to beat back the blush that’s burning your face. Why are you blushing? There’s no reason to blush!

_...yet. _

NO!

The coach huffs an exasperated sigh. “Alright, kid. Let’s see it.”

Blondie flinches at his abrasive tone, sending another wave of whispers and giggles through the team. You can feel the gears turning in their heads, taking note of the boy’s every move.

He rolls up one oddly faded sleeve to the elbow. The skin underneath is pale and blank.

Over your right shoulder you hear a joke about “performance anxiety.”

You have too much practice to let your aggravation show on your face, but the tiger barely has twenty-four hours of life experience to draw from. You can feel it lunge at the guilty party, threatening to tear her head of with two-dimensional claws. You do your best to ignore the twinging pulls at your skin, but you do rub that area as discreetly as possible.

There there, little one. You’ll get her later.

Coach Wright is far from amused. He demands that Blondie produce his soulmark or be banned from the stadium. A bit harsh, in your opinion. He’s only here because of an invitation extended by the staff, including the coach.

Blondie panics and shakes his hand wildly, as if he can dislodge his tattoo from wherever it’s hiding. You’re torn between wanting to giggle and console him--

A mouse tumbles down his forearm to land in a heap on his knuckles.

Huh. Maybe it is possible somehow. You’re halfway tempted to start playing with your tiger, just to see what happens.

The mouse picks itself up and skitters about on the back of Blondie’s hand. Coach wastes no time in grabbing that hand and yanking the rest of him directly in front of the team.

The tittering around you gets even louder.

So does the blood rushing in your ears.

This is it.

Isn’t it?

Cowed by the coach’s scrutiny, the blond boy slowly walks forward. His hand is outstretched and moving from side to side, like he’s dowsing for water. The mouse’s tiny nose twitches and points over his thumb, directly toward--

Oh, goodness.

He looks up to see your tiger climbing up your nose.

_ It’s him. _

Don’t ruin the moment by sneezing, no matter how much your tiger’s claws tickle your nose. You can hold out. This is what you’ve been waiting for, in the moments you managed to steal away from the world. This is the dream you refused to admit you had for so long. This is too beautiful to be spoiled by anything, so  _ for the love of God don’t you do it. _

Just look at him. Look at those big blue eyes that are so innocent and terrifying at the same time. That’s what opportunity looks like.

Now you finally have the chance to seize it.

“Uh--”

Whatever he’d intended to say is lost in the collective squeal of the team as they rush him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it's not already obvious, I have a bit of a soft spot for these two (in much the same way that Peter Parker has problems in life). I fully expect this misadventure to go off the rails and follow them exclusively, despite preexisting plans. I've seen it happen to much better tales.  
> THEREFORE!  
> It's up to you guys to keep me in line. Make sure I spread the love! Everyone needs to be remembered here, and have their story told!  
> Next one's from Jaune. Keep an eye out!


	14. I Don't Have to Ask Man or Mouse, Do I?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh...
> 
> Look I know I'm way overdue with this one, and I'm sorry. Truly I am.  
> I could talk about stressing over finals (finally over and done with, WOOT), decorating for Christmas--namely hanging 20 strings of lights made of freaking sugar glass (TWICE, thank you very much Mother), and trying to set up the world's most uncooperative new laptop (I have named him Lester, as he is my problem child). Excuses out the wazoo.  
> But you guys deserve the truth, and the truth is that I got stumped. Badly.  
> I'm sure you've all noticed, but so far I've been ending each chapter on a cliffhanger of sorts. I get to skip ahead some arbitrary amount of time so I can get right back to the action, not to mention put a stupid little joke and a noodle incident as my send-off. What can I say, I'm a sucker for asinine humor.  
> However, when I wrote this last chapter I fell in love with it (ego trip, yes) and it seems like you all did as well. This meant that I couldn't just edit the ending like I'm prone to do. I was faced with a story thread that I couldn't just leave hanging for a more opportune reveal. I actually had to follow up on this one; continue the events as if they were one whole.  
> All that, and the number of words was sitting at 8118, which is a pretty little palindrome and has all manner of symmetry to look at.  
> Whoops.  
> You guys have been nothing but supportive and positive in your critiques of me so far, and I had a bit of a freakout when trying to get this one done. I'm neurotic at the best of times when I write, so it was really something to see. Which is why I'm inordinately grateful that none of you were around to see it.  
> I wish that I could promise this won't ever happen again, but my record isn't exactly reassuring on that front. What I WILL promise is that I'm putting everything I know into every one of these chapters. I'm not a good writer, I''ll never claim otherwise, but I'm doing my absolute best to make this story all that it should be.  
> So, I guess what I'm asking from you guys is a little bit of patience with me as I stumble along.
> 
> Feel free to ragequit in the comments if/when you object to such treatment.

There’s a TV show Ruby and Yang got hooked on a few years back. Naturally they roped you into the action, and from there it became something of a tradition for the Frightful Five to gather at Yang’s place for marathon viewings.

Why does this occur to you now, of all times?

Because you learned a very valuable defense technique from that show, known formally as the Morgan. And against a horde of twenty-odd screaming Amazons, it comes in handy.

It doesn’t look terribly manly, but that’s a small price to pay for your physical well-being.

There are hands  _ all over you. _ Everyone wants to grab you and stare at you and squeal at you and  _ hug _ you, and confusion’s not a strong enough word to describe what’s running through your head right now. You’re actually trying to keep the stronger words out of your head because your brain-to-mouth filter is patchy on a good day, and the presence of  _ very pretty girls _ has blasted it to kingdom come.

A lesser man would be making a lot of harem jokes right now. You could be lesser. You could be so much less than you are right now.

The sea of heads manages to all sway the right direction for a moment, and you make eye contact with...Pyrrha.

Whoops.

There’s a distinct lack of happiness on her face. Mostly it’s just shock mixed with a dash of annoyance and garnished with disbelief, maybe a pinch of exasperation to top it off. It’s a hell of a drink order, but this isn’t the first time you’ve had to swallow it. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?

Of course, that’s assuming you survive the Delight of the Valkyries.

One of them's managed to wrap her arms around your waist and is squeezing the life out of you. Were it not for all the times you’ve endured similar treatment from the other women in your life, you’d be in two pieces by now. As it is, you can feel your floating ribs digging into organs you don’t think they should be anywhere near. Surprising they’re bending so far without cracking--

Oh! There it goes!

You can hear Pyrrha saying something to her teammates. Kinda hard to tell what it is, though. She sounds like she’s on the other side of the stadium. Did she run away?

You’d look to see, but your vision’s a little on the dark side. Did it cloud over? That would suck if it rained. The stadium’s roof is wide open, and you’d all be caught in the middle of it.

Surrounded by damp beauties and your soulmate.

Yang would be so jeal

  
  
  


Why is the sun red?

More importantly, why is it staring at you?

Oh dear God, it’s Rapture. And not the fun video game kind, you can escape that place.

But you’re not related to Andrew Ryan.

Right?

Of course not. You don’t have chains on your wrists, you have a mouse on your butt.

That means you’re related to Stuart.

...Oh,  _ man. _ Did you seriously just say that with a straight face?

The sun seems to agree with you, because its eyes are narrow and its face is red like its hair.

Oh, the  _ hair _ is red. That makes more sense than the sun being red.

And hey, bonus! No Rapture to worry about, either way.

The sun’s mouth is moving. Is it saying something?

Are you about to hear the voice of God?

Oh crap, is your head about to explode?

Eh. There are worse ways to go.

Especially when it’s a really pretty sun playing God…

Actually, that sun looks kind of familiar.

Is that…?

“Are you alright?”

Wow, she even sounds like Pyrrha.

…

OHSUNUVABADWORD

You sit up as fast as you can, nearly knocking heads with the redhead watching over you. “I’m sorry!” she cries.

_ She’s _ sorry? Holy crap, you want to sink through the turf and discover what’s in the secret basement. What even happened? Last you knew, there were girls everywhere and one of them was actually  _ hugging _ you, and--

Oh, yeah, that’s right.

Well, now you’ve passed out in front of your soulmate, right after establishing that your first move in a crisis is to cower like a little girl. God, if you’re listening up there, the whole Rapture idea’s looking pretty good right about now. You’ll even take the BioShock version, the mood you’re in. At least splicers kill you when they get close.

“Are you okay?”

What a question. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” is your instant answer. Because you are, really. You’re a big boy. You can face crushing humiliation in front of potentially the most important person in your life. No sweat.

At least everyone else is gone; guess they got tired of dealing with the passed-out dork in their house.

“Are you sure?” She leans in to inspect your hairline and you break out in a clammy sweat that seeps through your shirt in a heartbeat. Thank all that is holy you wore the hoodie. You thought you needed good luck today, and you were right in ways you never could have imagined.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just a little off my game, is all.” That’s it, Jaune, keep it up with the false bravado. She’ll never know a thing.

In fact, she does back down a little. Her shoulders lose some tension, and a little smile appears on her lips. “Good,” she says, and something in her tone intrigues you. She’s relieved, but at the same time her eyes are telling you that she’s onto you and your game. “I was worried that my teammates were a little too enthusiastic.”

“What?” you sputter. “No, no such thing as too enthusiastic. What even is that? Nah, I love them.”

That little smile gets bigger by a hair. “It seems like they loved you too. Leah, in particular.”

“Leah?” Was that the little Tinkerbell-looking one that choked you out?

“She was hugging you.”  
Ah. You file that information away for future reference, just like you did for Pennsylvania state police and Nora when you first met her.

Then you realize that you’re still sitting sprawled out on your butt from flying to Neverland and you scramble to get your feet under you and stand, brushing bits of fake grass off your butt. She follows you up in a much more fluid motion that you do your best to ignore, since it’s inspiring rather obtrusive reactions from your subconscious. That’s a problem for another day. Today’s quota has been met, you think.

“So, ah…” You search for something to say, anything at all, but now that you’re both facing each other like regular people it’s harder than it should be.

Yang, you’ve ruined this brain. Get out.

Pyrrha’s smile gets a little wider at your obvious discomfort. This is not how you wanted things to go when meeting her, although really you should just be thankful it’s  _ her _ that you’re meeting.

_ Pyrrha freaking Nikos is your soulmate. _ Nora hit the nail on the head with that one.

No, Jaune, just calm down. The lovely lady in front of you is nothing more than that, a lovely lady. Dad taught you how to deal with women. Confidence is key.

Confidence.

...or as the Russians call it, vodka.

Maybe you can fly to Russia? Your tactics wouldn’t be suspicious there.

But you can’t afford that trip, and you’re not going to ask Pyrrha to pay for it, that’s just rude.

PYRRHA’S STILL STANDING THERE YOU  _ MORON, _ SAY SOMETHING!

You put your fists on your hips and puff out your chest ever so slightly. “Well, now that I’m here, you think you might want to join my team?”

Oh dear God, you LOATHE yourself. After today, there will be no more Jaune Arc. You’ll see to that personally.

Pyrrha’s expression doesn’t change at all--shock at your stupidity, most likely. That warm smile is a little strained now, like she’s trying not to laugh. “I’d like that very much actually.”

Saywha?

“I’m afraid that I’m already bound by contract to this team, though.”

Oooookay, she’s turning the joke back on you. Familiar territory. You can work with this. All you have to do is bow your head and agree, and let the conversation flow naturally.

So of course you double down. “Really? You can’t do anything about that? You’re the star player, you’d think you’d have some sway over stuff.”

And while you’re trying to chew through your tongue, Pyrrha’s jaw is moving in a similar fashion. You must be pushing all her buttons, to get her this worked up. She’s got to be about two seconds away from losing it on you--

“Well if that’s true, then they’d want to keep me that much more, wouldn’t they?”

Is that laughter on the edge of her voice? Genuine, happy laughter? At you?

Actually, it’s not  _ at you, _ it’s a reaction to what you’re  _ saying. _

What sort of loopy-land have you entered?

“Uh…” You snap your mouth shut before you can throw any more fuel on the fire.

She seems to understand. “I think we should introduce ourselves properly,” she says, and holds out her hand. “I”m Pyrrha.”

You look at her, then her hand, then back to her and back to her hand and back to her and then you realize that you’re being an idiot again and you grab ahold of it, a little too roughly. “Hi!” That comes out too squeaky, so you clear your throat and try to put on an air of suave sophistication. “The name’s Jaune Arc. Short, sweet, rolls off the tongue. Ladies love it.”

…

Traffic was nearly nonexistent coming over here, but by thunder you will find a damn car to  _ run you the hell over. _

The corner of Pyrrha’s mouth is twitching like crazy. “I gathered,” is all she has to say on the matter.

Well that’s just great. You make a mental note to keep everything that happened today a secret from even Ren. There aren’t any pieces of this latest misadventure you’re willing to use as distraction bait.

Best to wrap things up now and leave with the shreds of your dignity held over your sensitive areas. “Well, now we’ve officially met each other,” you say.

And you want to say more, but there’s a pair of big green eyes that make your tongue go numb with the light inside them. It’s a weird sensation, and an even weirder light, because it’s made up of stuff you only see from Ruby, all kinds of joy and happiness and laughter and stuff that means she’s  _ enjoying _ this.

“Indeed we have,” she says, and then, very brightly: “Hello!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone asks exactly where this story is supposed to take place, it's wherever in the continental US you think it should be. Except Pennsylvania, for reasons I will disclose at my own leisure.  
> Hey, don't look at me like that. I want to be freeform with this, let it have a life of its own. And I'm too damn lazy to decide on a location, so there.  
> In any case, I'm proud to present the first chapter that Lester had a hand in creating. May this be the start of a long and happy union.  
> Next one's from Nora. Keep an eye out!


	15. Pink Eye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I readily admit that I'm putting these out as quickly as I can now. I waited far too long between updates last time, and you guys deserve better. This is the first time that there hasn't been any comments in the first day, which kinda hits where it hurts after the meteoric rise I enjoyed last time. It taught me that I messed up, badly. So here are my steps to atone.  
> I hope there's still something resembling quality in these words by the time I'm done with them, but I suppose I just have to leave it to you to judge.

One of the most popular jokes that people like to make is that they got too drunk to remember anything that happened the night before

You laugh along with everyone else, but honestly, you don’t get it. You’ve never had that problem.

That’s not to say you’ve never gotten drunk. Some of the best stories you have to tell only came about because of Captain Morgan and Captain Jack (Daniels, if you’re being formal). You’re just able to remember those stories as first-hand accounts, rather than someone telling you what happened, or putting it together Hangover-style.

Which is a shame, really. You’ve always wanted to go on a sleuthing adventure like that. Especially with friends who are just as lost as you.

Ren blames your immunity on your Scandinavian heritage. He says that anyone who follows Thor and Odin has divine metabolism as a necessity, to keep up with the partying in Valhalla.

You’re not sure if that’s how it works, but it’s still funny.

Of course, that immunity doesn’t cover the inevitable hangover that comes later, as you’re discovering for the umpteenth time this morning.

You blink the crud out of your eyes and slowly stretch each joint until it cracks and sends a flood of not-quite-pain-but-certainly-pleasure through your bones. Oh, yeah, that’s the stuff. You could make a whole day of that and not waste any time.

What time is it, anyway?

You sweep your hand around to the left for your phone, knocking it off the bedside table.

NO! Not the screen!

You dive after it before it can hit the floor, and by some miracle you succeed. The rest of your body isn’t so lucky.

“Owowowowow…”

On the bright side, your phone is still completely blemish-free, so you still haven’t lost that bet with Jaune.

Jaune!

PYRRHA!

You click your phone open to see that it’s nearly three in the afternoon.

… now see, you  _ remember _ drinking enough to knock you out that long. You even remember Ren carrying you back home, singing sea shanties all the way.

You singing, not him. He doesn’t sing. You’ve tried.

Why didn’t it seem like that much last night?

Oh yeah, because it was a PARTY!

_ Jaune found his soulmate. _ And she’s a KNOCKOUT!!

You just hope she doesn’t knock him out. Not that she would, probably, she doesn’t seem like she’s that mean, but Jaune attracts physical injury like some kind of pain magnet.

That would be an  _ awesome _ band name, Pain Magnet. You should make a band. But Ren can’t sing, and you can’t play guitar, so maybe not.

Jaune does, though.

Is he playing guitar for Pyrrha right now? Is he serenading her? Please say yes!

You’ve dialed his number and you’re listening to it ring before you realize that if he  _ is _ trying to flirt with Pyrrha, you’re interrupting it. You don’t want to mess with someone when they’re just meeting their soulmate, especially Jaune. He goes through enough as it is.

Maybe you can call Ruby? She might know what Jaune’s doing right now, since he  _ didn’t feel like telling any of you. _ Honestly, that boy’s going to get himself in trouble, and then you won’t be able to help.

Ruby’s working today, and her lunch break was hours ago. Your only option at this point is Yang. The phone’s ringing almost before you can finish the thought.

“Hey, it’s Yang! Gone now, talk later!”

Well, that’s weird. Yang always answers, especially if it’s from you. You two never get to hang out alone, just the two of you. Ren and Ruby and Jaune always make sure it doesn’t happen, like the city will break if you two are left unattended.

Nothing broke when she took you to Junior’s, but since that trip wasn’t supposed to happen, you can’t use it as evidence.

You huff in annoyance and let your head slump onto the floor. Your butt’s sticking high into the air, but there’s no one else to see it, so you can’t be convinced to care. Everyone’s busy today, with work and soulmates. Even your soulmate is at work.

At his job.

That lets him pay for his apartment.

That is separate from yours.

… you feel like you’re forgetting something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...so, quality's clearly out the window on this one.  
>  Maybe it's just me, but I always enjoy it when any series or media features little cutaway gags to what other characters are doing. It's a cheap but effective way of including them in the story, and it lets you see them in their more comedic moments. At least, that's the idea.  
> I love Nora. She's honestly my second favorite character to write, and I have fun with her. I relish any chance I get to work with her. Unfortunately, I can't work with her too much just yet without giving away the ballgame, so for now she's going to be relegated to cheap cutaway gags like this one. Not affecting the plot, but moving it along anyway. Rest assured, she's going to get her chance to shine along with everyone else.  
> Next one's from Ruby. Keep an eye out!


	16. Mournful Howl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize now that I've set myself an impossible goal with how long I've let this one go untouched, but I have decided to give you guys an actual event in the story as a Christmas present. Something that might keep you warm at night. However, it's got to serve the plot I've laid out, and it can't come off like an ex machina, so...help me out, guys. Let me know what you want in the comments below, and I'll see what I can do to fit them in.  
> (I felt so much like a YouTuber typing that in. Maybe I'll meet Mark and Peter? That would be awesome!)  
> This is mostly filler, but it's in the purpose of whittling away Ruby's excuses for not going after Weiss, so...enjoy!

If there’s one thing you know, it’s mechanics.

One of Dad’s favorite stories to tell is when you were six, and he found you sitting inside the washing machine taking apart the spindle. Piece by piece. He couldn’t figure out how you did it, and wound up calling a repairman who told him the warranty didn’t cover “act of gremlin.”

You used to cringe every time he told that story, because you remember how mad he was at you and at the repairman and at Yang for not watching you, but when you finally looked at his face you realized that he was actually proud of you for figuring that out. Apparently it’s a good thing to have a daughter that likes to tinker. Who knew?

So you kept right on tinkering. When you got older, you graduated from tinkering and got into building, which was a lot more fun. Just so long as you stayed away from the stove, that is. Something about not wanting any home improvement shenanigans.

(It took you a really long time to get that one, so you don’t talk about it)

Any time you were up against a problem you couldn’t figure out, you switched over to stuff that was in your wheelhouse to cool down. By the time you were fourteen, you’d already memorized every part of Dad’s car, down to the screws. That’s why you took a job at the garage--at least, one of the reasons. On bad days, it’s kind of like therapy.

But on the worst day of your life, it’s not helping like it should.

Lane’s giving you a lot of leeway while you’re on the clock, considering you ran out in the middle of a headlight repair yesterday. He’s being  _ really _ nice, which is kinda scary in its own right. He’s  _ never _ this nice with anyone, not even his own soulmate.

But since your wolf won’t sit still on your skin, you’re thankful for whatever changed his mood, because that thing tickles like  _ crazy. _

Right now it’s running around on your left foot, pawing at your heel. Yeah, this has been happening long enough for you to know what each tickle means. That’s how bad this is.

You do your best to keep from squirming too much, but you can’t help but kick out your foot at every new sensation. Nothing seems to keep it quiet for very long, not even when you’re finally done under the car and you stand up to grind it under your heel.

What? It’s not animal cruelty if it’s a part of you, right?

But after about fifteen minutes, it’s recovered enough to run straight up your spine and get tangled in your hair, causing you to freak out and trip over your own feet. You slam into another worker who happens to be holding a pan full of old oil. No guesses as to what happens next.

When you’re hauled in front of Lane to explain yourself, you do your best to keep from breaking down completely as your wolf digs at your scalp. He just breathes out a huge sigh through his nose and tells you to take the rest of the day off, and every day after that.

“But--!”

“Look, kid.” He’s aggravated, but it’s more of a tired thing than anything else. “I get that things are crazy for you right now, and I’m doing my best to respect that, but I can’t have you in here screwing things up. You’re a good kid, and I like you.”

The pieces don’t fit at all here. “Then why are you firing me?”

He looks at you like you’re stupid. “Fi--what? Firing you? Hell no. You’re the best damn worker I have here. I don’t want someone else to get you and steal business from me.”

Now you’re just confused, and it shows on your face. Lane pinches his nose and sighs again, this time through his mouth. “Take whatever time you need to get over this tattoo crap that’s messing with you, alright? Your job will be here when you get back.”

It takes a second to process what Lane just said, but you’re on him like bees on honey in your patented Panda Hug, which doesn’t go over very well with him. He throws you out of the garage personally, “Don’t take forever!” after you.

Worth it.

You brush asphault off your bum and look at the street, excited for the possiblilities. Your wolf picks up on your change of mood and scampers down to the back of your hand, panting happily like a doofy dog. This is it. Now you get to find your soulmate again and do things right. You get to find your  _ soulmate! _

You get to walk up to that really pretty, really scary white-haired girl and tell her that you’re the person she’s stuck with for the rest of her life.

“Lane! I can do better, I don’t need to--”

“GET THE HELL OFF MY PROPERTY!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may be wondering why I decided to turn Ruby Rose into Leopold Fitz, but there's a strange sort of logic that only exists in my brain to the matter. In the series proper, Ruby designed Crescent Rose herself (presumably with help from Qrow, but I don't believe it's specified). She geeks out over the prospect of seeing other students' weapons and the mechanics behind them, and she has trouble relating to people outside of her own perspective on the world. All that added up to an engineering wunderkind, much like you see in most fiction and occasionally in real life.  
> Besides, isn't she more fun like this? No? Well, blame Leo. He's in a mood.  
> Also, if you're curious about ages, I decided to make one change to Verse's original vision (I'm sorry, Verse, please don't hate me). I bumped everyone up to early twenties, with Ruby factoring in at roughly 18-19. I figured it would be easier for me to write everyone as having their own living space separate from their parents, since I didn't want to invent them or worry about how they'd react to various developments. I'm a lazy bum, sue me.  
> Next one's from Blake. Keep an eye out!


	17. Neptune, Be Cool for Once in your Life and KEEP THE CAT IN THE DAMN BAG

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, you beautiful bastards!  
> There've been people apologizing in the comments that they weren't leaving any comments, which makes me laugh at the irony while simultaneously warming the cold, damp cockles of my heart. So naturally, I must ask that you all stop doing so.  
> None of you have anything to apologize for. I screwed up with updating this one, and it's my job to win you back over. I relish the challenge.  
> As far as the story goes, I took a few liberties with Blake's relationships in order to have it suit my purposes (ah, the power I wield). Here she's known Sun for quite some time, and the rest of Team SSSN by osmosis. Therefore, there's already a few people in her life that she can have completely-not-awkward conversations with.

Another day, another dollar.

Or at least, that’s the idea. It’s why you’ve been walking around town with your résumé in hand, applying to every library, bookstore and Hastings you can find. It’s not good to limit yourself like this, but if you’re going to commit the better part of your day to retail it might as well be in something you can appreciate. At the very least, you want to have reading material readily available during your lunch breaks.

Neptune’s with you today, which only serves to make things slightly more frustrating in that you can’t let that frustration show at all. Normally you take solace in microexpressions when people aren’t looking, but he knows you too well for that.

Or at least, Sun knows you too well, and he’s passed his knowledge on to the others. There are days you want to strangle that man.

A pair of identical blondes walk by eying Neptune, who responds with his trademark grin. It almost twinkles in the sunlight, just like it always does. You’ve yet to figure out why you keep seeing it.

They giggle as they pass, and you roll your eyes as his head swivels like an owl’s to follow their swaying hips. “You know that it’ll never happen, right? Most twins don’t relish the idea of having sex with their sibling.”

“What?” Neptune’s eyes never leave their target. “Can’t a man dream?”

“I’ve washed the sheets after those dreams, so no, you can’t. I’m putting my foot down.”

That gets his attention, as his head snaps back to face you. He hisses and chops his hand rapidly in front of his throat. “Hey! Don’t blow my cover, Blake! Not cool!”

That’s an honest summary of Neptune in and of itself, but you forgo making that point in favor of fixing him with a pointed look. “Keep the smut where it belongs, and I won’t have to.”

He scoffs, but doesn’t argue. Satisfied, you return to looking for the right storefront. You don’t normally come around this part of town, so it’s a bit of a challenge getting your bearings. It should be around here somewhere--

You catch a glimpse of golden flame flickering out of a shop across the street and easily slide around to Neptune’s opposite side, providing a block in her line of sight. It takes him a second to register that you’re no longer on his left, at which point he does an awkward little dance trying to look around for you.

“Blake? What’s up?”

You don’t say anything. You don’t even look at him. In fact, you stare straight ahead with your best poker face and pray that he brushes this off as you being “Blake the Blackheart.”

At this point irony intervenes, and he looks in the direction you’re avoiding.

“Dude, look at her! You know her?”

“That’s Sunny.” The words leave your mouth before you’re quite sure they were in your mind, and apparently they make just as much sense to Neptune as they do to you. You curse inwardly at your own lack of creativity when assigning your most recent headache her moniker.

“Wha--Sunny?” Neptune’s slack jaw tightens up with horror. “Oh, God, she’s not related to our Sun somehow, is she? Because that’s just awkward on way too many levels--”

“No, she’s not.” She’s not related to  _ anyone _ in your circle, and you try to stress that as much as you can in three words.

Neptune fails to comprehend this.

“Are you sure? How do you know?”

“Because--”

You apply the brakes to the runaway train that is your mouth. Bad enough that you’re in this situation to begin with, but if someone has to find out you’re not letting Neptune be the first. He’s the worst gossip you know, and he never keeps the facts straight. By this time tomorrow he’ll have told half the apartment complex that you stole her away from her rich and powerful fiancé, and that you’ve bitten her to turn her into a Faunus.

That’s a recurring rumor, unfortunately. No matter what medical science has proven (seventy-four years ago), people will believe anything they want to be true.

Neptune’s still looking for an answer from you. You give it to him in the form of a glare that is normally sufficient to send him scurrying off.

This was your first mistake, as it let him know that there was an issue in the first place.

“Blake?” His tone is questioning, but his gaze is searching and vaguely accusatory. “Do you know her somehow?”

You want very much to give him some kind of an excuse, or a good thrashing, or potentially both; however, your attention is split between Neptune’s curiosity and Sunny’s walk bringing her nearer to you on the opposite street. She’s wearing a tank top again, and the ornate dragon tattoo can be seen swirling across her shoulders.

Too late you realize that you let your eyes linger on her, as Neptune follows your gaze and drinks in the sight of a live soulmark.

You’re in trouble.

His mouth moves wordlessly as the pieces fall into place in his mind. “You--and her--”

You already know he’s going to draw the wrong conclusion, and one of several counter-arguments you’ve prepared is ready on your tongue when he inevitably ducks his head to whisper conspiratorially in your lower ear. “Is that actually possible? I didn’t think you had a tat--”

“I don’t, and it’s not.”

He flinches at your brusque delivery, but you’re not in a mood to care. You just want to push past the subject and be done with it. If that means hurting Neptune, well, you won’t like it, but at least he’ll never bring it up again. “Let’s go.”

But much to your surprise, he doesn’t drop it. In fact, he’s smiling. “Dude, you’ve got a  _ soul--” _

You fix him with your most threatening glare before he can finish that sentence.  _ “No I don’t.” _

“But her tattoo’s trying to get to you, look!”

Oh, no.

You turn, and sure enough Sunny’s stopped to stare at her dragon, which is in fact attempting to pull itself toward you.

You move quicker than you can form rational thought, grabbing Neptune by his tie and yanking him through the nearest door before either of you are noticed. You might be able to avoid being seen, but it would take a blind man to miss his electric blue dye-job.

He doesn’t appreciate you turning his fashionable neckwear into a fancy lasso, and he doesn’t hesitate to share that opinion with you as soon as you let go. “You nearly ripped it!” he exclaims. “This thing cost forty bucks, you know!”

“I’ll get you a new one,” you mutter absently. You’re too busy peeking through the glass door at Sunny. She scans the sidewalk where you were just standing with a confused look, which turns into aggravation as she barks a question at her dragon. You don’t have to read her lips to guess the context.

But that’s alright, just as long as she keeps moving.

Sunny glances back at the row of stores, dowsing with her tattoo until her hand points toward your door. You watch her look up at the storefront, and the  _ oddest _ grin crosses her face as she dashes across the street.

_ Damn that dragon. _

“Neptune, we need to go.”

You turn to him expecting an argument, but he’s not even looking at you. Whatever’s got his attention has somehow turned his face deathly pale and bright red in equal measure. “Wha?” he squeaks. “Oh, yeah, go, let’sgogottagorightnowplease.”

This doesn’t sound like the intellectual ladies’ man that you know so well, and you’re confused until you follow his line of sight to see a horizontal rack of neon plastic sausages.

This isn’t possible. You pull up a map of the city in your mind and retrace your steps over the day. The schedule for your normal bus stop was delayed by half an hour, so Neptune had the idea to cut through some of the more questionable streets to find another. Apparently you weren’t quite out of the woods when the bombshell dropped.

From the way that this shop is arranged, you can only think that now you’re among the darkest trees.

“Blake, let’s  _ go!” _ Neptune’s on the verge of a breakdown in this very unfamiliar environment, and it shows in how furiously he’s whispering. He yanks at your arm, but you dig in your heels.

“We can’t,” you hiss. “She’s still out there.”

_ “What?” _ Incomprehension mixes with outrage and terror in his eyes. “Why can’t we leave? Why can’t she see us? Blake, what’s going on?”

You’ve never been good at placating people, and the stress of the situation does nothing to help your mood. “Neptune, I promise to explain everything when this is over, but we need to hide.”

_ “HIDE?!” _ he sputters. “In here? Oh no, oh nononono, no SIR!”

“Neptune…” you growl.

He whimpers in the most humiliating manner you’ve heard.  _ “Don’t make me do this.” _

“Neptune!”

“Why does it matter?” he whines. “We’re already up shit creek!”

“We’re about to lose the paddle if you don’t  _ hurry up--” _

The bell over the door jingles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some people are probably going to wonder just why I turned Blake into such a paranoid b****, but much like Sheogorath, there is method to my madness I actually consulted with him when writing this; Leo wasn't happy, but he got free cheese out of the deal.  
> The way I see it, Blake's spent the better part of her time learning how to read people and defend herself from potential threats. She didn't learn this in a classroom. Any nature documentary will show you that in the wild, you waste no energy and go straight for the throat (no, that's not a joke about her being Faunus, grow up). She doesn't acknowledge any Queensberry rules of conduct that you and I take for granted. If she feels threatened, she takes care of it. The world is full of people who live by similar codes. Not pleasant to be around, but there are worse ways to live.  
> And by the way, this was ABSOLUTELY uploaded on December 25th. TOTALLY. I did NOT leave this to the last minute because I was distracted by family and frivolity and the joy of the holiday. Nor did I have to contend with a ten-hour road trip back home with absolutely no Internet access. Nor was there any sort of recovery time needed. I am NOT late. What even is late? Late doesn't exist. I am a student of Gandalf, and I do things exactly when I intend to do them.
> 
> ...anyway, next one's from Yang. Keep an eye out!


	18. You Little Yellowbelly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good God, the schedule slippage on this has messed me up in all the worst ways.  
> According to my original plan, I'd have the chance to steal a line from Mongul by New Year's. After that, it was my intention to have our favorite battling boxer make her appearance on Boxing Day, even though the two are not in fact related to each other. Now I've missed my self-imposed deadline of midnight at the turn of the year.  
> BUT I DIGRESS!!  
> I readily admit that I have wanted this scene every one of the stories I've written. I'm juvenile like that. And honestly? I don't think there's a single character more suited to such a scene than Yang Xiao Long.  
> Well, there's one, but we're not supposed to talk about that.  
> We're only meant to watch, and speculate.  
> Enjoy!

You’ve never been the sort to feel sorry for yourself.

At least, not for very long.

What happened last night was a moment of weakness. You’re glad it happened, to be sure, but Ruby’s not supposed to see her big sister acting just as lost as her.

Which is why you hit the ground running this morning, from training at the gym to organizing your next race. If you’re moving, you’re grooving, and today you feel  _ groo-vay. _ Ain’t nothing gonna bring you down.

Some might call it ignoring the issue, but you don’t see an issue to ignore.

So when you were looking for a new liquor store, you could only be pleasantly surprised by your dragon waking up between your shoulder blades. Even if it tickled like nothing should tickle.

It did its job in pointing you to your soulmate, but never in a million years would you have guessed it would lead you here. Your face starts hurting from how big your grin is. This is going to be amazing.

The door’s got an old-timey bell that tinkles when you open it. Kinda cute, which doesn’t jive  _ at all _ with the sex shop it leads into.

Deep breath through the nose… mmm, mm-mm-mm. Smell that sweet perfume of rubber and scented oils. And holy shit, are those dildoes hanging on a rack? They’re right next to the door! Good God, you love this town. If your soulmate is a regular here, you’re in for a  _ treat. _

You scan through the latex suits for the exotic brunette you met yesterday, but so far there’s no sign of her. It’s actually kinda empty. Just a few people scattered about, all of them staring at you.

You sigh. Great. It’s gonna be another drool-fest from people who can’t see north of your boobs. At least there’s a code of conduct in this place, if it’s like most of the shops around town. Granted, it’s more of a hole in the wall (heh), but that just means the people who use it don’t want to be seen in polite company. Even better potential soulmate material--

Wait, is that Mason? He’s been holding out on you!

He makes eye contact with you for all of a second, then darts back through the shelves and out of sight.

Oh, no. You’re not letting him get off that easy. You take off in pursuit, calling his name with barely restrained laughter. If he comes here regularly (heh), you can get some killer advice on the best stuff they sell. Maybe even a discount!

You round the corner of a skin cream display and bowl over some guy with blue hair. Whoops. You’re about to apologize to him when you realize that you’ve seen him before; he was outside the store just a minute ago, wasn’t he?

He knows where tall, dark and mysterious is!

You yank him back onto his feet in your excitement. “Hey there, friend!” you say brightly, gripping him in your patented underboob headlock. No man alive has resisted this truth drug.

From the way he’s stuttering, he’s not about to break the mold. “Wuh-wuh, w-w-w-we’re friends?”

Oh, this is going to be SO much fun. “Ab-so- _ lutely _ we are!” you chirp. “And as  _ very good friends, _ we tell each other everything, right?”

He does not like that question. He does not like that question at all. He starts squirming in some adorable attempt to squeeze his head through your arm. Keep wriggling, bigmouth bass. You’ve got years of fishing experience under your belt, and you’re not letting him off the hook until he starts talking.

“Come on, friend!” You’re using your best friendly voice on him. Between that and the lack of oxygen he’s getting, he’s bound to crack. “I know she’s in here! You might as well tell me, I’ve got all day!”

“I-- don’t---” His face matches his hair.

“What’s that?” You lean in, pressing a little more of your breast into his forehead.

_ “She’s going out the door,” _ he whispers.

There’s no time to lose. You drop him and dash back to the front of the store, just in time to see the door swing back shut. You catch a glimpse of black hair through the window as your target rushes across the street and away from you, again.

That little  _ tease. _

Well, if you can’t catch her, you can work with the material you have.

And  _ that _ means another interrogation with Little Boy Blue in the back of the sex shop.

This is going to be fun on levels you can’t even begin to imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah...there's nothing better than an awkward meeting in a seedy sex shop, eh? I hope I run into someone from this site at my regular joint. We can swap ALL the stories.  
> Next one's from Jaune. Keep an eye out!
> 
> Oh, and, uh...
> 
> HAPPY NEW YEAR, YA JOLLY JACKASSES!! I ****ING LOVE YOU ALL!!!!!!


	19. Bernard and Bianca

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! I'm here to give you all awkwardness, to put alongside all the chocolate and nice cards!  
> ...because I have no love left in my soul.  
> I hate work. And I hate school. And I hate YouTube, and everyone I watch on it (screw you, Markiplier). And I hate life, and all the crap I let distract me. And I hate money, and how much power it has over my life, which I hate, because it's been distracting me. And I HATE WRITER'S BLOCK.  
> And I hate Leo, but that's mutual, and the entire reason we keep each other around.  
> I have no idea why this one was so difficult. Jaune and I are practically the same person. Although in fairness, that means I have to write the same kind of thoughts that I have, and I don't have thoughts.  
> Oh, well.

So, your day is going well.

No ruptured gas lines or multi-car pileups, which is always a good thing. Always good when nothing explosion-related is around, always good.

And the weather! Boy, is it a beautiful day. Lots of clouds all over the sky, white and gray and everything in between. Is that a black cloud in the distance? By thunder you think it is!

Was that a pun?

Ha! Your sense of humor is surely improving! You must thank Yang later for her many lessons in the art of punnage.

Oh, this day is going wonderfully!

“Jaune? Is everything okay?”

WONDERFULLY!!!!

Pyrrha looks at you with with concern. Oh, joy. It only took her a few hours to notice she has a spaz for a soulmate, and now she’s stuck with you for life. This is a great day, an awesome day indeed. All that’s left is for one of the gang to show up unannounced and enjoy it along with everyone else.

Yes, you’re tempting fate on this one. At this point, it’s not even temptation. It’s politely holding the door open as fate walks right on in. You already know it’s coming, anyway.

“...Jaune?”  
ANSWER HER YOU STUPID CHILD.

“Yeah? No, everything’s fine!” Ah, yes, lie through your teeth. It’s not like she’s been seeing through all your bull so far, it’s bound to work this time. A foolproof plan!

“Alright…” she says uncertainly. See? Working like a charm.

You wait for her to look away so you can suck in a huge breath and let it out slowly. Relax, Jaune. _Focus._ You’re not freaked out! You’re not freaked out. You’re _not._

You took her to lunch, because that’s what people do. People like lunch. People like eating lunch with others. You’re other. You check that box on her sheet for people encountered.

So, lunch.

There were some people out and about, but that was fine, that was _fiiiiiiine!_ Nothing the two of you couldn’t handle! Pyrrha’s a celebrity, she’s got to be an old pro at stuff like this.

So when the old pro asked to take the back paths, you hauled ass down Crime Alley like there’s a bull chasing you. From what Pyrrha tells you later, similarities include being trampled to death, so you dodged that bullet.

Dammit, Yang.

Then you took her to a movie, because that’s what people do. People like movies. Of course, you had no idea what she liked, and to be honest you wanted to get inside as quickly as possible with the crowds gathering, so you picked the Doctor Strange movie.

Pure, unadulterated genius.

Unless she’s a diehard Marvel fan, she doesn’t know who this guy is. Unless she watches BBC, she has no clue who the actor is. Unless she’s a closet nerd, you’ve just exposed yourself as a giant dweeb, and in order to save face she’s going to put you in the closet.

 _Dammit,_ Yang.

Of course, you can’t ask her if she liked the movie, because you got kicked out halfway through. Your phone was on vibrate, but you apparently didn’t cover up the screen enough when you checked to see who was calling.

(Yeah, it’s a faux pas, but you’ve learned many times over to answer all calls. You never know when it might be an emergency.)

Poor Pyrrha didn’t want to put up a fuss in case the mob came back, so now you’re both here trying to stick to the back alleys. Perfect first day as soulmates. All that’s left is to ramble on about your family and friends and everything else she doesn’t want to know about you. That’ll be the disappointment trifecta right there; stupid, dorky, and won’t shut up. Truly, the ultimate achievement for you.

“Are you sure?” she asks you.

You scoff. “Oh, yeah, totally. Kinda got lost in thought, is all, nothing to worry about. Continue!”

Oh, you don’t like yourself. You do not like yourself at all right now. You _scoffed_ at her. Just to buy time. And “continue?” She’s not your driver! She’s not taking you past some errand you need to run!

_You’re an asshole._

“But...we’re not doing anything.”

Aaaaand you’re back to square one. Again.

What are you supposed to do with Pyrrha freaking Nikos? How is someone supposed to entertain a woman who’s seen the world? You don’t have gas money for a four-hour road trip to visit your parents, how do you afford plane tickets right now?

Come to think of it, you really couldn’t afford the tickets to the movie. That one’s coming out of your food fund. You _think_ there’s still ramen left in the pantry…

Hold up. You’re out with Pyrrha Nikos. This is not the time to be stingy with your money. You don’t want to the trifecta to turn into a laundry list.

Yet.

“Yeah! Yeah, I know, uh...sorry. What do you want to do?”

She seems to shrink a little at the question, which is impressive considering she’s almost your height. “Oh, I don’t mind,” she says. “You can choose something.”

And that’s the other thing that’s been happening all day. For whatever reason she’s been letting you lead the way, which is most likely the reason everything’s gone to pot like it has. You chalk it up to her not knowing you very well, otherwise she’d have taken the reins a couple of hours ago.

She’d have ditched you at the stadium if she knew you at all, but you’re trying not to focus on that too much. Negative thoughts bring down everyone around you, and the last thing you want is to give her more reason to hate today, if that’s possible.

What to do, what to do…

What was it your mom always said? If you’re getting someone a gift, but you can’t figure out what they might like, get them something you know you like. That way, it’s still a heartfelt gesture.

Yeah. Yeah, thanks, Mom. Sound advice that hasn’t backfired once today.

“Well, uh…”

 _Think,_ you dunce. There’s gotta be _something_ that can salvage the evening. Some miracle that you can pull out of your ass to make her happy. _Think!_

“Wanna check out the park?”

You’re running out of ways to describe just how impossibly stupid you are.

“The park?”

She sounds surprised, even a little affronted. Of course she is, she’s been avoiding people all day, you want to take her to the _public park?_ What the hell is wrong with you, Jaune? What the actual hell?

You have to fix this.

“No, you know what? Never mind. Park’s overrated anyway.”

“No, no!” She’s quick on the draw with her apology, like it’s reflex. Probably built up from fielding stupid ideas like yours. “The park is...fine, I suppose.”

“No, it’s okay,” you assure her. “We don’t need to go there. We can just walk around some more, I guess. Worked so far, hasn’t it?”

She stares at you for a second, and then smiles. Just a little bit, but it’s there, and that’s worth something. “Okay,” she agrees hesitantly.

Dumbass coverup for the win!

You grin back at her in what you hope is a cheery and agreeable way, even though it’s probably more awkward and panicky. One crisis averted. Now to figure out how to handle the next twist of the evening.

Such as your phone ringing.

Dammit, Nora! This had better be good, you’ve already been thrown out of a really good movie thanks to her!

The screen flashes a picture of Ruby in her hood, resting her chin on your head.

“Pyrrha, I am so, s-so sorry, but I have to take this.”

“Um--okay…?”

But you’ve already answered the call, and Ruby’s voice is all you can hear.

“JAUNE HELP!”

Literally, it’s all you can hear. This may be an alley, but the street was fairly noisy a second ago. What happened to that?

“Ruby? What’s happening?”

“JAUNE I NEED YOUR HELP PLEASE I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO I’M FREAKING OUT PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!”

“Ruby!” Pyrrha’s shooting you concerned looks, and you try to smile reassuringly and not like you’re trying to clamp down on two nervous breakdowns. “Calm down, okay?”

“I CAN’T!”

Despite everything, you feel the urge to sigh in exasperation. Thank God you have experience with your other seven sisters… “Ruby, just hang tight, okay? Just tell me where you are and I’ll come to you, alright? I promise?”

“THANK YOU SO MUCH!”

You laugh a little. “Alright, you’re welcome. Now where are you?”

You can hear her taking deep breaths, her confidence in your promise working to calm her down. “I’m--I’m, ah…”

A sinking feeling grips you as you realize the possibility that she’s lost and might explode again, but she’s quick to follow with an address that she says she’ll text you so you won’t forget.

“Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Hurry, Jaune,” she wimpers.

You hang up and turn to face Pyrrha again, who’s looking at you with no small amount of confusion. “Is...everything okay?” she asks.

Oh, crap. This is not going to look good on your permanent record.

“Ah…” How to say it best? “Look Pyrrha, I’m really sorry, but that was my friend, and she’s really freaking out over something, and she says she needs my help, and I’ve never been able to say no to her, and I really, _really_ wish that I could, because I have to go help her, but I don’t want to bail on you, and you probably think I’m just making this up, but I swear I’m not, I just really need to go help her, and--”

“Jaune.” One word, and she manages to shut you up. “It’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she says warmly. Warmly? There’s something in her smile that definitely speaks of warmth, but how does that make sense with the situation?

“I can always--”

“You said she needed your help, right?” When you nod, Pyrrha nods sagely. “Then go help her. We can do this another time.”

Holy crap. Ho-ly crap, this isn’t happening. This is an actual miracle, taking place in front of you right now. How is this happening?

“Uh, right! Yeah! Another time!” You start backing up, caught between wanting to talk and trying to keep to schedule. “You know, when we have an actual plan in place!”

She chuckles. “That would be nice.”

Okay, she’s happy, that’s good. This is the high note to be leaving on.

You actually get turned around and almost out to the street before a hard epiphany spins you back to face her. “Uh, how do we get in touch?” you call down the alley. “We don’t have each other’s numbers or anything!”

Pyrrha’s face is blank for a moment as she processes what you just said, and then realization brings back that confident grin. “It can’t be too hard,” she calls back, and waves a tattooed hand at you. “You can’t shake me that easy.”

…

Gift horses, Jaune. Do _not_ think too hard about what she just said. Just take your happy ending for the day and run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I've figured out why this one's harder for me. It's my favorite pairing, sure, but at the same time it's not. What made Pyrrha and Jaune work so well in the series proper was that Jaune had no idea who Pyrrha was to begin with, which allowed for some clarity in conversation that never would have occurred otherwise. Sure, it became awkward later, but first impressions are everything. I'm in a strange position where Jaune actually knows Pyrrha's station before meeting her, and that's a completely new dynamic between the two of them. I'm not complaining (much), but it's more of a challenge to make this relationship believable, keep it from being cliched, and stay true to the characters. Please, help me out here. I'm serving you, and the customer is always right. Right?  
> I'm not making excuses for my failures, I'm just making excuses for my failures. Let's move on.  
> Incidentally, never listen to your favorite songs after any nightcore. It will sound sluggish and wrong, and you won't have favorite songs anymore.
> 
> Next one's from Ruby. Keep an eye out!
> 
> PS: If you can tell me what the title is referencing, you get to determine the tattoos of the rest of Team SSSN.


	20. Can't Blow Down the Walls, Already Tried

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's Idiot's Day. No, this chapter is not some prank. In fact, I'm gonna try and be nice to you all, and give actual gifts this time around. Starting today, I'm going to be updating this daily until the story thread I'm working on plays itself out.
> 
> You're welcome (Dwayne, sing me off).
> 
> Also, it might surprise you to know that I have not seen anything past Volume II of the series proper. Or maybe you already guessed, I don't know. I am aware of the major plot points of Volume III, and I haven't touched anything to do with Volume IV. I plan on it staying that way until I finish this story up, so as to keep things relatively consistent.
> 
> And yes, I'm being very stern here, because I'm in a bad mood over taking so long with this fic, and I feel like making you all suffer for it. Leo's not around to keep me on my best behavior, so bite me.

So maybe this wasn’t the  _ best _ idea.

You check your phone for the umpteenth time, willing Jaune into existence and panicking a little more when he doesn’t appear. Where is he? What’s taking him so long? You can’t keep hanging around the front window of the store much longer, people will think you’re a creep!

Besides, if you have to keep pretending to look through fancy paper-thin scarves and cardigans one more time, you’re going to lose it. What is the point of extra flappy stuff that doesn’t keep you warm? Why do people pay money for this junk?

Ugh, your cloak is so much cooler than any of this. You kinda wish you brought it with you, but as much as you wish otherwise, it doesn’t hide you from the world. Actually, it makes you stand out more. Maybe it’s the color?

Your soulmate had white hair, didn’t she? Do red and white go together? You think your mom had something like that in her wardrobe, but memories of her are fuzzy at best. You’ve learned not to rely on them too much.

Your wolf keeps dancing on your wrist, reminding you to turn away from the restaurant across the street. Its instinct to find the bird from yesterday is annoying, but lucky for you it can be handled. For instance, now it’s adjusted its position to higher up your forearm. You rub at the phantom tickling, hoping that somehow it will have an effect.

Movement!

You dash behind one of the mannequins and peer around it into the street. You saw something bright and fuzzy out of the corner of your eye, but upon further inspection it’s not the carelessly messy hair you were hoping for. It’s almost as good, though.

You wave frantically at Jaune, hoping he’ll notice you before anyone else does. A brilliant plan, if he wasn’t facing the other way. You want to shout at him, but that’ll definitely bring more attention your way than you want.

Your phone!

You whip it out and send him a quick BEHIND YOU text. He twitches in surprise before reaching into his pocket and reading it, locking eyes with you immediately after. You wave at him to come inside right now, before anyone sees you acting like a spaz at the window.

The burning sensation on the back of your head tells you it’s too late for that.

Jaune slips inside and grips you by the shoulders. “Are you okay? What happened? What’s happening?”

“IwatryintafinmahsoulmateanshewenintotheplacearossdastreebutnowIcangoincuzshegonnaseemeandIdon’twannertocuzthenshe’sgonnathingI’mweirdan--”

_ “Woah!” _ Jaune shakes you a little to shut you up. “You’re going a million miles an hour, slow down! Breathe!”

You bite down on your lip and suck in a huge gulp of air through your nose (see! You don’t gulp through your nose, that’s stupid! You’re stupid!), holding it for as long as you can before letting it out slowly. Jaune looks grateful, and you don’t blame him; last time this happened, you breathed out too fast and blew snot all over his hand. At least this time it’s not over your mouth, now you’d just hit his shirt.

“Okay,” he says. “You okay now?” When you nod, he takes a big sigh of his own. “Okay. So, from the top.”

You don’t want to explode again. Really, you don’t. But you’re sitting on a literal, metaphorical powder keg right now, and if you don’t do something it’s going to go off on its own.

“I’m trying to find my soulmate!”

Oh, you hope that wasn’t too loud. Bad enough that the other people in the store know you’re here, but they don’t need to find that out. They’ll crowd around you. You don’t do crowds.

Jaune just stares at you. “You...sorry, what?”

Don’t do this, Jaune! You don’t want to repeat it!

“I...I’m trying to f-find my soulmate.”

Now you’re incredibly,  _ incredibly _ thankful that you didn’t call the other blonde in your life for help. Yang is amazing and you wouldn’t trade her for anything or anyone, but if she were here right now she’d be through the door and maybe the wall of the restaurant, going in a straight line toward your soulmate. Or whoever she grabbed first, really, she’s not picky when she’s in her “go” mode.

Jaune, on the other hand, knows what you’re going through. He’s your brother-from-another-mother. He  _ gets _ it. You can tell he gets it from the look of shock on his face.

“You have a  _ soulmate?!” _

…

Oh, that’s right, you never told him. Oops.

“Kinda?”

“‘Kinda?’” he squawks. “What do you mean, ‘kinda?’” He looks down at where you’re grabbing your arm, and his eyes get even wider. “You mean that your wolf is--”

“Yeah, it’s been bugging me all day, but Jaune, she’s right across the street, and--”

“Wait,  _ what?” _

Jeez, you should have told him sooner. Now you have to explain what’s happening in front of people who are really staring now, even if they’re trying to make it look like they’re not. You can feel the tension rising as more and more of them figure out what’s happening. “Jaune, please, just--”

“This is awesome!” He’s got the biggest grin on his face as he grabs you in a hug, actually picking you up and spinning on the spot.

You don’t know how to feel about this.

Later on you’ll probably be just as happy as he is, since it’s Jaune and he doesn’t get all big-brothery very often, but right now he’s drawing more attention than you want and that’s a very immediate concern.

So it’s only natural that you would pinch him mid-swing.

“Ow!”

“Jaune, focus!” You drag him outside and turn him to face the store window, pointing at the restaurant behind the two of you as discreetly as possible. “She’s in there right now, and I don’t know how to talk to her, or if she even likes me, and I need help!”

“Right! Help!” He’s still excited for you, but he’s putting his game face on, which is a relief. “What do you need me to do?”

Brake screech.

How could you not think this far ahead? Oh, jeez, you’re a dunce, you’re a duncey dunce dunce and you’re an idiot who doesn’t know what she’s doing and you’re soulmate’s going to hate you because you can’t even hope to pretend like you know what you’re doing--

Wait.

You refocus on Jaune, and the look on his face says you’ve got that spark in your eye he doesn’t like.

Well, them’s the breaks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next one's from Weiss. Keep an eye out!


	21. Don't Eat the Yellow Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re-watched Empire Strikes Back for the first time since my age could be measured in single digits.
> 
> ...
> 
> Now I'm pining for an Indiana Jones marathon.

Comparing business to battle is hardly a new idea. You want to roll your eyes at how many substandard media have attempted to be profound regarding the subject, with cliché dialogue and awful acting.

Just as bad are smug, offhand references to Sun Tzu. There is no amount of money you would not wager to prove that anyone who does such a thing has never even seen a copy of  _ The Art of War _ on a library bookshelf. Perhaps they’ve never even set foot in a library.

All that being said, you need to add breadth to your reference pools.

You shouldn’t be at the restaurant again. Tactically, it makes no sense to return to the site of a skirmish not in your favor. Every minute you’re in here stretches into fifteen, which does nothing to help your nerves. The lamb salad has lost all flavor; at this point it’s essentially cud for you to chew.

A pity, really, You like lamb salad with fregola.

But you keep yourself composed. Strategically, you remind yourself, you have to ensure that nothing appears out of the ordinary, and a Schnee appearing once in some random restaurant wouldn’t do. People might ask questions. As it is, you’re wearing leggings in case your swan decides to make a public appearance. In order to uphold the illusion, you’re going to have to come back here a few more times, sporadically so as to not indicate any particular reason. If all goes according to plan, the world will simply think you’ve found a new favorite dish.

The waiter returns with your card and receipt, and you check your watch. Not quite a quarter past five, which means that you have some time before you’re due back home. What to do…

You tip the bouncer at the door handsomely, as you did yesterday. He says nothing, doesn’t even change expression; you doubt you’re the first to pay for his silence. You’re probably not even the highest bidder.

Your swan pulls at your hip, but you ignore it. You turn right and make it exactly twenty-six steps before a reedy voice creeps out from behind you.

“Hey, hot stuff!”

Your day was going  _ swimmingly _ before this. What changed?

You whip around to jab your finger in that little twerp’s face, but instead you find yourself poking a rather thin sternum. No, thin  _ torso. _ Although you suppose that would make the attached sternum somewhat thinner than average…

Focus!

The boy you poked steps back as if you stabbed him. “Ow!” he cries. “Jeez, I’m sorry! Normally my one-liners don’t make people hurt me!”

Despite how monumentally furious you’re becoming, you scoff. “Oh, really? I find that rather hard to believe.”

The boy looks abashed for all of two seconds before his face becomes smarmy and overconfident. “Don’t worry, princess,” he drawls as he straightens back up. “I’ve got all kinds of things in store that you won’t believe.”

Oh.

God.

Almighty.

Your temper bubbles over, and you stomp right up to his idiotic grin. “Listen, you loser,” you hiss. “I have had a rather  _ interesting _ forty-eight hours, and you are doing  _ very little _ to make it any better. If you have  _ any _ sense of self-preservation, you’ll walk away slowly and calmly and never even  _ think _ about the Schnees again, or I will see to it that you feel  _ physical pain _ to do so.”

His eyes are crossed trying to focus on yours, but otherwise they’re sufficiently wide with terror. It’s almost enough to make up for the fact that he’s a degenerate moron.

“Uh...the who?”

You blink. That was evidence you didn’t expect to get of his stupidity. Who hasn’t heard of your family?

“The Schnees?”

“Gesundheit.”

No. He did  _ not _ just go there. If you had a dime for every time someone has made that  _ asinine _ quip just to feel clever--

“The Schnee Development Company? One of the largest conglomerates in the  _ world, _ who sells to virtually every business known to man?”

Alright, that may be pushing it, but now’s not the time for subtlety.

His mouth gapes for a moment, then it closes and he shakes his head resolutely. “Never heard of it.”

The only thing that keeps you from verbally flaying him is the tingling on your chest, which makes you inordinately grateful you buttoned up your coat. If this idiot saw your swan beating its wings, he might think that you’re--

Wait.

You peer closer at him, studying his features. You don’t remember seeing him yesterday, but there’s every chance he was around when the grease monkey bumped into you. It would be just your luck to have your soulmark’s awakening fall victim to some harebrained pratfall.

But at least you can work with this one.

“Let me see your soulmark.”

The boy is taken quite aback. “I--wha?”

You huff. “Did I stutter? Let me see your stupid soulmark!”

He backs up, holding his hands out defensively. “Look, I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea here--”

But your patience was worn out some three hours ago, and you’ve grown tired of his nonsense. You grab his right arm and yank up the sleeve.

Lo and behold.

“I-it’s not what you think!” he squeaks.

For once, he’s hit the nail on the head. It really,  _ really _ isn’t. 

But you’ve committed to this course of action now, and backing out would be even more disastrous than continuing. You need answers. Now. And as an ancillary benefit, you have some much-needed stress release ahead of you.

“Come with me.”

“But-I--”

You fix him with your best icy glare. “Come with me  _ now, _ or I will introduce you to my family’s company the hard way.”

He gulps audibly. “Yes, ma’am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to look at top ten lists about food to get this chapter right. I couldn't think of a decent analogue for the Schnee Dust Company in the "real" world, so I half-assed it. Add that to my nostalgia, and I'm grumpy all over again. If I get a buttload of comments about how I'm actually updating daily, ESPECIALLY anything referencing April Fool's Day, I'm going to break my foot off in somebody's ass. Don't ask who, either. I'm not choosy, and I have more than one foot.
> 
> Next one's from Blake. Keep an eye out!


	22. It's Because He Crossed Her Path

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first.  
> I'm sorry. For a lot of things, but this time around I'm sorry this took so long. If I'm to be completely honest, my little misadventure back in April managed to scare the living piss out of me, and I didn't want to touch this story again for fear of what I might do next. Wasn't until some very interesting events happened in both my life and the lives of those I claim to care about that I finally got the kick up the ass I needed.  
> Kinda weird, really. I'm the one who blew the biggest hole in my own self-confidence.  
> But let's get to what you came for.

So far, you’re in the clear.

The bus you’d been trying to catch was just about to pull out (no), but you’d managed to ride it all the way home (no) without seeing any vivid heads of hair somehow dogging your footsteps.

The lack of an enraged party in hot pursuit doesn’t have the soothing effect on your nerves that it should, though. If anything, you’re getting even more tense the farther you get from the...shop.

The shop.

That’s what it was.

That’s _all_ it was.

You’re not associating _any_ extra meaning to that debacle than it deserves, and quite frankly, you’d rather just forget it happened at all, so that’s less meaning to give it.

The sight of Sun’s apartment door is enough to distract you from your thoughts of doom and gloom. You’re almost safe, almost--

No.

No, you’re not.

...at least, not until you get your story straight.

Sun knows that you were out applying to jobs, and he knows Neptune went with you to try and “point you in the right direction.” You can work from there. Just spin something about Neptune chasing after some new conquest and Sun won’t even bat an eye. If you mention the twins, you might actually win him over to your side for when Neptune _does_ get home. You don’t need your best friend getting on your case as well.

Out of habit you tug one of the folds of your bow down ever so slightly, so you can better hear what might be happening in the apartment. This time it’s mostly just shuffling and some mild chatter, nothing you haven’t heard many times before. Normally you’d linger a moment or two longer, listen for a few details that might give you an idea of the conversation.

Right now, though, the fact that no one’s screaming bloody murder is all the invitation you need.

You fumble in your handbag for your keyring, cursing the not-pockets on your otherwise perfectly comfortable jeans. Your finger snags on round metal and you yank it free with a mild sense of triumph, which quickly fades away when you can’t line the damn thing up with the lock. Come on, it’s not that difficult. Please…

The key finally crunches into place. Your frustration strengthens your hands enough to nearly break it off at the hilt, and you barely notice. That’s how done you are with today. Any minute now Neptune’s going to follow you here and burst in crying about Sunny and every other problem she’s brought into your life.

You shove the door open and make a beeline for Sage’s room, fully prepared to bury your face in your pillow and not emerge until morning light.

At least, that was the plan until you saw Sun sprawled out on the couch with his phone in one hand and an absolutely _horrifying_ grin on his face.

...or Neptune could call ahead and rat you out, that was also an option.

 

It’s nearly nighttime by the time everyone else makes it to the apartment. Sun agreed to wait until the others were present so you wouldn’t have to repeat yourself, but if you didn’t know better you’d suspect him of rigging the deal. As it is, he might as well be chewing on a canary the way he’s slumped on the couch..

Neptune, on the other hand, won’t stop shooting you dirty looks from his perch on the arm. It’s annoying, but he’s not without reason. You just don’t want to legitimize his ire at the moment, while you still have your own to deal with.

Sage and Scarlet are mostly just confused, but the way they’re lounging on either side of Sun means that they’re not on your side in this, so they might as well be on his.

You could be reading too much into this, but then again you might not be.

You’re sitting on the coffee table across from them all. The weight of their stares is distinctly uncomfortable. You consider making a break for it, maybe conjuring an excuse along the lines of “female problems,” but you know that Neptune would spontaneously develop PMS of his own in response, and then everyone would suffer.

“So.” Sun’s enjoying this far too much, you’ve decided. “You wanna start, or should we let Mr. Vasilias address the court?”

The injured party’s scowl contains an ugly light that dares you to let him speak. You decide to fall on your own sword instead. At least this way you get to choose the angle of entry.

“I...left Neptune in town.”

“Point of order!” Neptune cries.

“The court recognizes Mr. Vasilias’s objection,” Sun drones.

“She left me to get _waterboarded_ by some hot blonde chick in a goddamn sex shop!”

When you look back on this moment in the future, you’ll wonder exactly what Neptune intended to achieve by saying those words. Presumably to put pressure on you for a confession. Instead, the other three _leap_ onto this new nugget of humiliation with abject glee. Neptune, bless him, doesn’t realize what he’s done until they all fall off the couch laughing. His face floods with scarlet embarrassment.

“Oh, _grow up, guys!”_ he exclaims.

They refuse.

“Seriously!”

Now they’re just laughing harder.

 _“What the hell?!”_ Neptune leaps off the couch arm in outrage. “You assholes are supposed to be on _my_ side!”

You’re not about to remind them of their allegiances, not when it means the heat’s off you. While the boys are distracted, you beat feet to Sun’s room and lock the door. 

You toss your bag in the corner and slump onto the air mattress you’ve been provided. You don’t scream into the pillow; you’re too paranoid that they’ll hear, even through the stuffing and their own mirth.

Oh, well. The time for that will come later. Now is the time for rest, and bliss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh. Speaking of shooting one's own foot...  
> So.  
> I could go on and on about how much I want to prostrate myself before everyone here, but I think the best thing for me to do is just get the f*ck back to work. Maybe I'll give that a try.  
> Keep me honest, keep me steady, keep me where I need to be.  
> Next one's from Ren. Keep an eye out.


	23. Do You Know What Pick Up the Phone Means? It Means to Press the Green Button With the Phone On It. You Press That Button, Then You Can Talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before the torches are lit, let it be known that the sum total of my mechanical and automotive experience can be expressed in changing tires and episodes of Top Gear. Original Top Gear, not what's come after. I absolutely adore Matt LeBlanc, but no one can replace the original trio.

Closing time.

One last call for…

...dammit, Yang.

Maybe one day you’ll appreciate Semisonic, but for now you’re just trying to wrap everything up without anything going haywire. Nora’s not here at the moment, which works in your favor there. No one to panic at the thought of her presence.

It’s not long before your manager gives you the all-clear. You pull off your apron and roll it up under your arm before you leave. An odd little quirk, certainly, but it wouldn’t be the first time someone stopped you thinking you could unlock the doors for them. Outside the temperature is slipping through the sixties. It’s not bad; maybe a touch too cool, but that’s what jackets  and heated car seats are for.

You dig in your pocket for your keys, absently glancing at your old Alfa. It’s still sitting on all four tires, which is about all you can say about it. If you hadn’t met a diminutive machine whisperer the year after you bought it, you’d have been humped quite some time ago. Despite what Nora likes to tell people, your skills are not boundless, nor your patience.

At least the cloth top’s still in place. There’s another point in the Alfa’s favor.

You’re forced to take it back when the fob refuses to work.

You sigh, separating the actual key from the rest to plug into the door. You’re fairly sure that the fob’s battery is still good, so it must be something to do with the receiver. Maybe you can get Ruby to look at it...again. You pull out your phone as you open the door and settle into the driver’s seat. This will just have to go on the list of favors you owe her, whether she wants to admit it or not.

When you open your phone, you see four missed calls and eleven unread text messages from Ruby, all of them some form of “Help me!”

...huh. Oops?

To be fair, your phone is on vibrate while at work, and you typically wear pants with loose pockets. Ruby knows this, as does everyone else. Hopefully she  _ remembers _ that she knows this by the time that you talk to her, so that you don’t have to come up with an explanation that sounds more “plausible.” At the very least, something that would keep Yang off your back.

You dial for voicemail and listen to the phone ring, wondering what could have her so nervous. She’s a bit hyperactive from time to time, but generally it’s aimed in a positive direction.

“Please enter your password, then press pound.”

Not to mention she’s calling you, which typically doesn’t happen. Ruby’s shortlist ranks both Yang and Nora above you, and if neither of them were available, that might actually be cause for concern.

“You have--four--new messages, and--two--saved messages.”

You press one.

“RENHALPIWANNAFINEMASOULMADEBUHSHEEZGONANDIKENTFINDERPLEASEIDONWANNAFACERALONEPLEASE”

“End of message. To erase this message, press seven. To save it, press nine. To hear other options, press zero.”

You press nine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jim, Dick and Jezza, I salute you. May you destroy many more innocent machines in your misadventures going forward.  
> For those who might be asking, Ren's car was meant to be a 1987 Alfa Romeo Spider Quadrifoglio, picked up for cheap and with good reason. If that make and model didn't have a remote key fob, just pretend that somebody installed it afterward. I've heard after-market alarms are absolute wastes of time and money that are sure to c*ck up, so in my head the same principle applies.  
> Next one's from Pyrrha. Keep an eye out.


	24. In the Barracks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pyrrha

The hotel has an entire floor set aside for your team. Ostensibly it’s for safety purposes as well as overflow (there are a lot of people that travel with you on tours), but it’s a private joke that the management likes to feel like they’re royalty wherever they go.

Their policy on saving space only adds fuel to the flames. No team member is allowed a room with any less than two other bodies, while those in charge lock their individual doors the minute they arrive. Out of sight, out of mind.

Due to the awkward number of players you’ve lucked out tonight with just the one roommate, although if you’re honest, she’s not who you would have picked. Jenna’s famous for not taking lip from anyone, and that makes her one of two on the team who doesn’t treat you differently. Nights spent with her are normally relaxing, with an easy amount of conversation.

After today, though, her laissez-faire nature isn’t doing wonders for the still-furious storm in your head.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Forcibly acquired reflexes make your eyes widen and your tiger rush up to your neck, but when you look at Jenna her face is open and guileless. You relax, although your tattoo is still bristling at what could have been a threat. You try to make a joke to distract her from the sight. “I can go get her if you like.”

Jenna lifts an eyebrow. “I assumed you wanted this to be a private conversation, but if you want to deal with her weirdness, feel free.”

You want to rise to Penny’s defense, but think better of it. Jenna’s a bit more on edge than normal tonight. The last thing you want is to start an argument over something petty.

Which reminds you, you never apologized for springing your soulmate on the team today.

“Don’t.”

Your tiger freezes on your collarbone. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Right.” Jenna flops down on her bed and buries her face in the pillow. It doesn’t do much to muffle the aggravated moan. “Today sucked.”

It shouldn’t be cause for concern-her complaint might be completely unrelated to your rather eventful evening-but you feel your tattoo get antsy all the same. You do your best to discreetly cover it with one hand. “What happened?”

Her head turns just far enough that one distinctly unamused eye stares you down. “I’m gonna assume you’re just looking for a way into the conversation.”

Oops. You’re about to apologize again, but something tells you that this wouldn’t improve the situation. Instead you wait for her to vent her frustrations.

It doesn’t take long. It  _ does _ last a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idiot's Day on Easter Sunday. Seemed like as good a time as any.


End file.
